


A Few Good Men

by The_Sassiest_Trixster



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Lawyers, Alternate Universe - Navy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-07-27 20:55:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 32,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16227161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Sassiest_Trixster/pseuds/The_Sassiest_Trixster
Summary: Lt. Napoleon Solo is a military lawyer defending two U.S. Marines charged with killing a fellow Marine at the Guantanamo Bay Naval Base in Cuba. Although Solo is known for seeking plea bargains, a fellow lawyer, Lt. Cdr. Illya Kuryakin, convinces him that the accused marines were most likely carrying out an order from a commanding officer. Solo takes a risk by calling Col. Nathan Sanders to the stand in an effort to uncover the conspiracy.





	1. Chapter 1

Once upon a time, in the middle of the night in the middle of nowhere, two pairs of footsteps could be heard walking down the marine barrack’s corridor.  These footsteps belonged to Lance Cpl. Julian Michael Deuster and Private First Class Peter Stark, who continued to walk down the corridor until they stopped in front of a door.  Julian then reached out and placed his hand on the doorknob, turning it slowly as he opened the door.  He and Peter then walked into the room, which belonged to Alessandro Ananasso, a young, very slight marine.  The marine was fast asleep in his bunk as Julian knelt down next to him and reached out, shaking his shoulder gently.  Alessandro opened his eyes and looked over at Julian, the two men staring at one another for a moment before Alessandro’s eyes widened and he lunged out of bed.  Before he could get anywhere, Julian and Peter quickly grabbed him and before the scream could come, Peter shoved a piece of cloth into his mouth.  A strip of duct tape was then pulled, ripped, and slapped onto his mouth and eyes while a length of rope was wrapped around his hands and feet.

            “You’re lucky it’s us, Alessandro” Julian whispered.  An arm then grabbed Alessandro tightly around the neck, not choking him, just holding his head still.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

The next morning, the U.S. Marine Corps Band was playing Semper Fidelis on a huge and lush parade grounds before a crowd made up of mostly tourists and day-campers.  To the campers and tourists, the band was a sight to behold.  Each polished black shoe hit the ground as if they were all attached by a rode while each drumstick rose at the same fraction of a centimeter before striking.  They had a rifle drill team that couldn’t have been human with flags, banners, and the works.  While they were playing, a man walked across the courtyard and towards a red brick building that a few sailors were entering and exiting.  The man was Illya Kuryakin, a 6’5’’ Navy lawyer in his early thirties, with blonde hair, fair skin, and icy blue eyes, a transfer from Russia.  He was tall, bright, handsome, impulsive, and had a tendency to speak quickly and sometimes slip into Russian when bored or angry.  If he had any friends, they’d call him Illya. 

            “I am requesting…I am…Captain, I would like to request that I be the attorney assigned to rep—I would like to request that it be myself who is assigned to represent—” he muttered in a thick Russian accent to himself before he paused.

            “ _“That it be myself who is assigned to represent?”_ ” he repeated before he groaned.

            “Good Illya, that is confidence inspiring” he grumbled as he walked into the brick building that bore the seal of the United States Navy – Judge Advocate General’s Corps.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

As Illya entered the building, Captain Alexander Waverly and two other officers, Udo and Oleg, were sitting around a conference table.

            “Kuryakin, come in” Udo called out.

            “Thank you sir” Illya thanked.

            “Captain Waverly, this is Lieutenant Commander Kuryakin.  Illya, you know Oleg” Udo introduced.  Illya nodded.

            “Yes sir” he replied before he turned to Waverly and bowed slightly.

            “Captain, I appreciate you seeing me on such short notice” he thanked.  Waverly nodded.

            “I understand there was some trouble over the weekend down in Cuba” he mused.  Illya nodded again.

            “Deuster and Stark are both recruiting poster marines and Ananasso was known to be a screw-up.  I was thinking that it sounded awful lot like Code Red” Illya answered, accent thickening with passion.

            “Christ” Waverly muttered under his breath.

            “I’d like them moved up to Washington and assigned counsel.  Someone who can really look into this.  Someone who possesses not only the legal skill, but a familiarity with the inner workings of the military.  In short, Captain, I’d like to suggest that…I be the one who…is assigned to represent them” Illya stated.  The room was silent for a moment before Waverly sighed.

            “Kuryakin, why don’t you get yourself a cup of coffee?” he suggested.  Illya shook his head.

            “Thank you sir, I’m fine” he countered.  Waverly sighed.

            “Kuryakin, I’d like you to leave the room so we can talk about you behind your back” he stated bluntly.  Illya took the hint and nodded.

            “Certainly sir” he replied before he turned and left the room.  Once he was gone, Waverly turned to Udo and Oleg.

            “I thought this Code Red shit wasn’t going on anymore” he spat.  Oleg chuckled mirthlessly.

            “With the marines at GITMO?  Who the hell knows what goes on down there” he murmured.  Waverly then shook his head.

            “Well, let’s find out before the rest of the world does.  This could get messy.  What about this man?” he asked, motioning with his head towards Illya, who was standing outside.  Oleg frowned.

            “Illya’s been working a desk for internal for what, almost a year now” he stated.

            “And before that?” Waverly asked.

            “He disposed of three cases in two years” Udo answered.

            “Three cases in two years?  Who was he handling, the Rosenberg’s?” Waverly sneered.  Udo shook his head.

            “He’s not cut out for litigation” he stated.

            “He’s a hell of an investigator…” Oleg started.

            “In Internal Affairs, sure.  He can crawl up a lawyer’s ass with the best of ‘em, but when it comes to trial works—” Udo argued, making Waverly raise a hand.

            “I know.  All passion, no street smarts.  Bring him back in” he ordered.  Oleg nodded as he stood up and walked over to the door, motioning for Illya to come back in.

            “Commander, we’re gonna move the defendants up here in the morning” Waverly stated.  Illya nodded, eyes bright.

            “Thank you sir” he thanked.

            “And I’ll have Division assign them counsel” Waverly continued.  Illya blinked in surprise before he frowned.

            “But not me” he stated, accent thick with disappointment.

            “From what I understand from your colleagues, you’re much too valuable in your present assignment to be wasted on what I’m sure will boil down to a five-minute plea bargain and a week’s worth of paper work” Waverly inferred.

            “Sir—” Illya started.

            “Don’t worry about it.  I promise you, Division’ll assign the right man for the job” Waverly assured with a small smile.


	2. Chapter 2

The right man for the job that Waverly insisted on was an American; Lieutenant Junior Grade Napoleon Solo and it was almost impossible to not like him.  At the moment, he was hitting fungoes with about a dozen lawyers who were spread out on a softball field on a corner of the base.  The ’27 Yankees they were not, but they could probably hold their own against a group of say, Air Force dentists.  Napoleon was in his mid-thirties, fifteen months out of Harvard Law School, and a brilliant legal mind waiting for a courageous spirit to drive it.  He was, at this point in his life, passionate about nothing…except maybe softball.

            “Alright, let’s get two!” Napoleon called out to team as he smacked the ball to second base, watching as it bounced right between the man’s legs.

            “Sorry” second base called out.  Napoleon shook his head.

            “Nothing to be sorry about, Brad.  Just look the ball into your glove” he called out before he smacked another ball out to the same place.  This time the ball bounced off the heel of Brad’s glove and into center field.

            “Sorry!” Brad called out again.

            “You gotta trust me, Brad.  You keep your eyes open, your chances of catching the ball increase by a factor of ten!” Napoleon called back as a young naval officer by the name of Dave Jones, who was sweaty and out of breath, walked up behind the backstop.

            “Solo!” he called out.

            “Let’s try it again!” Napoleon shouted.

            “Solo!” Jones shouted again, this time making Napoleon turn.

            “Dave.  You seem upset and distraught” he observed.  Jones huffed in annoyance.

            “We were supposed to meet in your office fifteen minutes ago to talk about the McDermott case.  You’re stalling on this thing.  Now we get this and I mean now, or no kidding, Solo, I’ll hang your boy from a fuckin’ yardarm” he spat.  Napoleon raised an eyebrow.

            “Yardarm?” he repeated before he turned to look at Brad.

            “Brad, does the Navy still hang people from yardarms?” he called out.

            “I don’t think so, Solo” Brad called back.  Napoleon smirked as he turned back to Jones.

            “Dave, Sherby doesn’t think the Navy hangs people from yardarms anymore” he teased before he turned back to the field.

            “Let’s go, let’s get two!” he shouted before he went back to hitting fungoes.

            “I’m gonna charge him with possession and being under the influence while on duty.  Plead guilty and I’ll recommend thirty days in the brig with loss of rank and pay” Jones called out.  Napoleon chuckled and shook his head.

            “It was oregano, Dave.  Tell dollars’ worth of oregano” he stated.

            “Yeah, well, your client thought it was marijuana” Jones argued.  Napoleon rolled his eyes.

            “My client’s a moron, that’s not against the law” he stated as he swung the bat, hitting the ball straight into the third baseman’s face, making him wince.

            “Ow.  That had to hurt” he murmured before he smiled apologetically.

            “Way to keep your head in the play, Rudi.  Walk it off!” he called out.

            “I’ve got people to answer to, just like you, so I’m gonna charge him” Jones started.  Napoleon scoffed and turned around for like the hundredth time.

            “With what?  Possession of a condiment?” he sneered.

            “Solo—” Jones started.

            “Dave, I’ve tried to help you out of this, but if you ask for tall time, I’m gonna file a motion to dismiss” Napoleon interrupted.

            “You won’t get it” Jones countered.  Napoleon smirked.

            “I will get it.  And if the MTD is denied, I’ll file a motion in liminee seeking to obtain evidentiary ruling in advance, and after that I’m gonna file against pre-trial confinement and you’re gonna spend an entire summer going blind on paperwork because a Signalman Secon Class bought and smoked a dime bag of oregano” he declared.  Jones crossed his arms.

            “B Misdemeanor, twenty days in the brig” he offered.  Napoleon shook his head.

            “C Misdemeanor, fifteen days restricted duty” he countered.  Jones sighed and shook his head.

            “I don’t know why I’m agreeing to this” he grumbled.  Napoleon smirked.

            “Because you have wisdom beyond your years” he stated before he smiled.

            “Can you play third base?” he asked.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

The next day, in a conference room, about sixteen Navy and Marine lawyers (several of whom were women) were taking their seats around a large conference table.  Meanwhile, a paralegal was handing out folders and some photocopied papers to the lawyers, one by the name of Lieutenant Junior Grade Gaby Teller.  Gaby was a serious and studious looking and if she wasn’t in uniform, you wouldn’t have guessed that she was a naval office.  Their teacher, Captain Gabriel Farnese, soon entered the room.

            “Morning” he greeted.

            “Moring Captain Farnese” the class greeted as Farnese turned to Gaby.

            “How’s the baby?” he asked.  Gaby smiled.

            “I think she’s ready to say her first word any day now” she answered.  Farnese raised an eyebrow.

            “How can you tell?” he asked.

            “She just looks like she has something to say” Gaby answered with a smile as Napoleon entered the room.

            “Excuse me.  Sorry I’m late” he apologized.  Farnese rolled his eyes.

            “I’m sure you don’t have a good excuse, so I won’t force you to come up with a bad one” he grumbled.  Napoleon smiled.

            “Thank you Gabriel, that’s nice of you” he replied.  Farnese rolled his eyes again.

            “Sit down, this first one’s for you” he snapped as he handed Napoleon some files.

            “You’re moving up in the world, Solo.  You’ve been requested by Divison” he stated.  “Oooh’s” and “Ahhh’s” came from the other lawyers behind Napoleon, making him grimace.  (Subtle note: Napoleon didn’t want to move up in the world).  He then raised an eyebrow and looked at Farnese.

            “Requested to do what, exactly?” he asked.  Farnese handed him another file.

            “Guantanamo Bay, Cuba.  A marine corporal named Deuster illegally fires a round from his weapon over the fence line and into Cuban territory” he explained.

            “And?” Napoleon asked.

            “PFC Alessandro Ananasso threatened to rat on Deuster to the Naval Investigative Service.  Deuster and another member of his squad, PFC Peter Stark, they go into Ananasso’s room, tie him up, and stuff a rag down his throat.  An hour later, Ananasso’s dead.  Attending physician says the rag was treated with some kind of toxin” Farnese continued.  Napoleon raised an eyebrow.

            “They poisoned the rag?” he asked.  Farnese shook his head.

            “Not according to them” he replied.  Napoleon crossed his arms.

            “What do they say?” he inquired.

            “Not much.  They’re being flown up here tomorrow and on Thursday at 0600, you’ll catch a transport down to Cuba for the day to find out what you can.  In the meantime, go across the yard and see Lt. Commander Illya Kuryakin.  He’s the one who had ‘em brought up here.  He’ll fill you in on whatever he has.  Any questions?” he asked.

            “The flight to Cuba…was that 0600 in the morning, sir?” Napoleon replied.

            “It seems important to Division that this one be handled by the book, so I’m assigning co-counsel.  Any volunteers?” Farnese asked.  Gaby shook her head.

            “No” she stated simply.

            “Gaby” Farnese volunteered.

            “I have a stack of papers on my desk –” Gaby started.

            “Work with Solo on this” Farnese ordered, completely ignoring her statement.  Gaby rolled her eyes.

            “Doing what?  Solo’ll finish this up in four days” she argued.  Farnese shrugged.

            “Do various…administrative…you know…things.  Back up.  Whatever” he suggested.  Gaby raised an eyebrow.

            “In other words, I have no responsibilities whatsoever” she stated matter-of-factly.  Farnese nodded.

            “Correct” he agreed.  Gaby grinned slyly.

            “My kinda case” she murmured.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys are enjoying this story! Please don't be afraid to leave comments, kudos, bookmark, and subscribe!
> 
> Also, I had a hard time debating between whether or not I should make Napoleon Henry Cavill's actual age or make him younger, so I just decided to make him Henry's age, cuz honestly, Henry does not look thirty five at all. He looks like he could be in his early thirties, late twenties.


	3. Chapter 3

The next day, Illya was sitting in his office, working on some paperwork, while Napoleon and Gaby stood in the doorway.  After a few moments, Napoleon knocked politely, making Illya look up in surprise.  Napoleon then smiled.

            “Hi.  I’m Napoleon Solo.  I was told to meet with—” he started, pausing to check his notes before looking up again.

            “—Commander Kuryakin” he stated.  Illya still hadn’t said anything and was continuing to stare at Napoleon, which confused him.

            “About a briefing” he continued.  Illya continued to stare at him, finding this very hard to believe.

            “You are attorney Division assigned?” he asked in a thick Russian accent.  Napoleon blinked; he definitely wasn’t expecting the accent.  He then cleared his throat and nodded.

            “I’m lead counsel.  And this here is Gaby Teller” he introduced, motioning to Gaby, who waved, a small smile on her face.

            “I have no responsibilities here whatsoever” she stated.  Illya continued to stare at them, deeply puzzled.

            “Come in, please, have seat” he then offered after a moment, motioning for them to sit.  Napoleon and Gaby did what they were told and entered the office, sitting down before the man.

            “Lieutenant, how long have you been in Navy?” Illya asked, looking at Napoleon.  Napoleon frowned.

            “Going on nine months now” he answered.

            “And how long have you been out of law school?” Illya continued.

            “A little over a year” Napoleon replied.  Illya was silent as he nodded slowly.

            “I see” he answered finally.  Napoleon raised an eyebrow at him.

            “Have I done something wrong?” he asked, a little miffed.  Illya shook his head.

            “No.  It is just that when I petitioned Division to have counsel assigned, I was hoping I would be taken seriously” he growled, accent thickening.  Napoleon and Gaby glanced at one another before they looked back at Illya.

            “No offense taken, if you were wondering” Napoleon stated, looking at Illya.  Gaby then sighed.

            “Commander, Lieutenant Solo’s generally considered the best litigator in our office.  He’s successfully plea bargained forty-four cases in nine months” she explained.

            “One more and I got a set of steak knives” Napoleon added with a cocky grin.  Illya didn’t look impressed with his statement.

            “Have you ever been in courtroom?” he asked, crossing his arms.  Napoleon shrugged.

            “I once had my driver’s license suspended” he replied.  Gaby sighed as she looked over at him.

            “Napoleon—” she started.

            “Commander, from what I understand, if this thing goes to court, they won’t need a lawyer, they’ll need a priest” Napoleon interjected, cutting her off.  Illya shook his head.

            “No.  They’ll need lawyer” he argued as he handed Napoleon a series of files, which Napoleon immediately passed off to Gaby without even glancing at them.

            “Deuster’s family has been contacted.  Stark’s closest living relative Ginny Miller, his aunt on his mother’s side, she hasn’t been contacted yet” Illya continued.  None of this of course really meant anything to Napoleon, but he listened anyway.

            “Would you like me to take care of that?” Illya asked, raising an eyebrow at Napoleon, who shrugged.

            “Sure, if you feel like it” he replied.  Illya pursed his lips as he took another moment to size Napoleon up.

            “One of the people you’ll be speaking to down there is the barrack’s C.O., Colonel Sanders, whom I assume you’ve heard of” he stated.  Napoleon snorted.

            “Who hasn’t?” he asked.  Gaby then turned to him.

            “He’s been in the papers lately.  He’s expected to be appointed Director of Operations for the National Security Council” she explained as Illya handed Napoleon another file.

            “These are letters that Ananasso wrote in his eight months at GITMO—” Illya started.

            “Guantanamo Bay” Gaby whispered to Napoleon, who rolled his eyes.

            “I know what it means, Gabs” he whispered back.

            “He wrote to his recruiter, the fleet commander, HQ, Atlantic, even his senator.  He wanted a transfer.  Nobody was listening.  You with me?” Illya asked, raising an eyebrow at Napoleon.

            “Yes” Napoleon replied.

            “This last letter is to the Naval Investigative Service—” Illya stated as he handed the letter to Napoleon, who handed it to Gaby.

            “—where he offers information about Corporal Deuster’s fence line shooting in exchange for a transfer, which was just last ditch effort” Illya continued.  Napoleon nodded and crossed his arms.

            “Right.  Is that all?” he asked.  Illya frowned.

            “Lieutenant, this letter makes it look like your client had a motive to kill Ananasso” he argued.  Napoleon nodded.

            “Gotcha.  And Ananasso is…who?” he asked.  Illya face palmed.

            “The victim” he growled, accent thickening again in annoyance.  Napoleon then turned to Gaby.

            “Write that down” he ordered before turning to Illya.

            “Am I correct in assuming that these letters don’t paint a flattering picture of marine corps life in Guantanamo Bay?” he asked.  Illya nodded.

            “Yes, among other—” he started.

            “And am I further right in assuming that a protracted investigation of this incident might cause some embarrassment for the security council guy” Napoleon interjected.

            “Colonel Sanders, yes, but –” Illya started again.

            “Twelve years” Napoleon stated finally.

            “I’m sorry?” Illya asked, blue eyes widening in surprise.

            “Twelve years.  I can get it knocked down to Involuntary Manslaughter.  Twelve years” Napoleon repeated.  Illya frowned.

            “You have not talked to a witness; you have not looked at a single piece of paper!” he exclaimed.  Napoleon smirked.

            “Impressive, huh?” he asked.  Illya growled softly.

            “You are going to have to go deeper than just—” he started.

            “Commander, do you have some sort of jurisdiction here that I should know about?” Napoleon asked, raising an eyebrow at Illya.

            “My job is to make sure you do your job.  I am special counsel for Internal Affairs, so my jurisdiction’s pretty much in your face.  Read letters.  You are not under any obligation but I’d appreciate report when you get back from Cuba” Illya answered, leaning back in his chair.  Napoleon nodded.

            “Sure” he replied, standing up.

            “You’re dismissed” Illya growled, annoyed that Napoleon did not wait.  Napoleon turned and smiled apologetically.

            “Sorry, I always forget that” he stated before he left the room.  Once he was gone, Gaby got up to follow before pausing in the doorway.

            “He’s a little preoccupied” she explained before pausing.

            “The team’s playing Bethesda Medical next week” she offered.  Illya smirked.

            “Tell your friend not to get cute down there.  The marines in Guantanamo are fanatical” he advised.  Gaby raised an eyebrow.

            “About what?” she asked.  Illya chuckled.

            “About being marines” he answered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys are enjoying this story! Please continue to leave comments, kudos, bookmark, and subscribe!


	4. Chapter 4

            _“Dear Sir,_

_My name is PFC Alesandro Ananasso.  I am a marine stationed at Marine Barracks, Rifle Security Company Windward, Second Platoon Delta.  I am writing to inform you of my problems with my unit here in Cuba and to ask for your help.  I’ve fallen out on runs before for several reasons such as feeling dizzy and nauseated, but on May 18 th, I’d fallen back about 20 or 30 yards going down a rocky, unstable hill.  My sergeant grabbed me and pushed me down the hill.  Then I saw all black and the last thing I remember is hitting the deck.  I was brought to the hospital where I was told I just had heat exhaustion and was explained to by the doctor that my body has trouble with the hot sun and I hyperventilate.  I ask you to help me.  Please sir.  I just need to be transferred out of RSC.  _

_Sincerely,_

_PFC Alessandro Ananasso.  U.S. Marine Corps._

_P.S. In exchange for my transfer off the base, I’m willing to provide you with information about an illegal fence line shooting that occurred the night of August 2 nd” _an older gentleman read aloud before he dropped the letter onto his desk, where it joined a stack of other letters just like it.  This older gentleman was Colonel Nathan Sanders, a born leader, considered in many circles to be one of the real fair-haired boys in the Corps.  He was also as smart as a whip with a sense of humor to match.

            “Who the fuck is PFC Alessandro Ananasso?” he demanded, looking at his two senior officers that were standing before him in his office.  To his left was Captain Alexander Vinciguerra, a career marine in his late 40’s.  He was a nice guy in a world where nice guys may not finish last, but they sure as shit didn’t finish first.  To Sander’s right was Lieutenant Victoria Debicki, an Academy graduate in her mid-twenties from Georgia.  If you asked her, she’d tell you that the gates to Heaven were by the U.S. Marine Corps.

            “Sir, Ananasso is a member of Second Platoon, Delta” Victoria answered.

            “Yeah, well, apparently he’s not very happy down here at Shangri-La, cause he’s written letters to everyone but Santa Claus asking for a transfer.  And now he’s telling tales about a fence line shooting” Sanders grumbled as he tossed the letter over to Alexander, who looked it over.

            “Alexander?” Sanders asked after a few moments of waiting for a response.

            “I’m appalled, sir” Alexander answered.  Sanders snorted.

            “You’re appalled?  This kid broke the Chain of Command and he ratted on a man of his unit, to say nothing of the fact that he’s a U.S. Marine and it would appear that he can’t run from here to there without collapsing from heat exhaustion.  What the fuck is going on over at Windward, Alexander?” he demanded.

            “Colonel, I think perhaps it would be better to hold is discussion in private” Alexander answered.

            “That won’t be necessary Colonel.  I’ll handle the situation” Victoria offered.

            “The same way you handled the Curtis Barnes incident?  You’re doing something wrong, Lieutenant, this—” Alexander snarled.

            “My methods of leadership are—” Victoria argued.

            “Don’t interrupt me, I’m still your superior officer” Alexander snapped.

            “And I’m yours, Alexander” Sanders reminded, making the room quiet for a moment.

            “I want to know what we’re going to do about this” Sanders continued after a beat.

            “I think Ananasso should be transferred off the base.  Right away” Alexander advised.

            “He’s that bad, huh?” Sanders asked.  Alexander nodded.

            “Not only that, but word of this letter’s bound to get out.  The kid’s gonna get his ass kicked” he stated, pity slipping into his voice.

            “Transfer Ananasso.  Yes, I suppose you’re right.  I suppose that’s the thing to do.  Wait.  Wait.  I’ve got a better idea.  Let’s transfer the whole squad off the base.  Let’s—on second thought—Windward.  The whole Windward division; let’s transfer ‘em off the base.  Victoria, go on out there and get those boys down off the fence, they’re packing their bags” Sanders ordered before he cleared his throat.

            “Tom!” he called out.  An orderly came in from the outer office.

            “Sir!” he answered.

            “Get me the President on the phone, we’re surrendering our position in Cuba” Sanders ordered.

            “Yes sir!” Tom answered, walking over to the phone.

            “Wait a minute, Tom” Sanders commanded, making the orderly stop.

            “Don’t call the President just yet.  Maybe we should consider this for a second.  Maybe – and I’m just spit balling here – but maybe we as officers have a responsibility to train Ananasso.  Maybe we as officers have a responsibility to this country to see that the men and women charged with its security are trained professionals.  Yes.  I’m certain I once read that somewhere.  And now I’m thinking that your suggestion of transferring Ananasso, while expeditious and certainly painless, might not be, in a manner of speaking, the American way.  Ananasso stays where he is.  We’re gonna train the lad.  You’re in charge, Victoria.  Ananasso doesn’t make 4.6 on his next fitness report, I’m gonna blame.  Then I’m gonna kill you” Sanders growled, looking at Victoria, who nodded.

            “Yes sir” she replied.  Alexander frowned.

            “I think that’s a mistake, Colonel” he cut in.

            “Alexander, I believe I will have that word in private with you now.  Victoria, that’s all.  Why don’t you and I have lunch at the “O” club?  We’ll taking about the training of young Alessandro” Sanders offered.  Victoria nodded.

            “Yes sir, I’d be delighted to hear any suggestions you have” she replied.

            “Dismissed” Sanders stated.  Victoria nodded before she stood up and left.  Once she left, Sanders looked at Alexander.

            “Sit” he ordered.  Alexander quickly sat down and clasped his hands in his lap.

            “What do you think of Victoria?” Sanders asked as soon as Alexander was seated.

            “I don’t know that—” Alexander started.

            “I think she’s kind of a weasel, myself.  But she’s an awfully good officer and in the end, we see eye to eye on the best way to run a marine corps unit.  We’re in the business of saving lives, Alexander.  That’s a responsibility we have to take pretty seriously.  And I believe that taking a marine who’s not yet up to the job and packing him off to another assignment puts lives in danger” Sanders explained.  Alexander said nothing as he began to stand to leave.

            “Alexander, siddown” Sanders ordered.  Alexander sighed softly as he sat down again.

            “We go back a while.  We went to the Academy together, we were commissioned together, we did our tours in Vietnam together.  But I’ve been promoted up through the chain with greater speed and success than you have.  Now if that’s a source of tension or embarrassment for you, well, I don’t give a shit.  We’re in the business of saving live, Captain Vinciguerra.  Don’t ever question my orders in front of another officer again” Sanders commanded before he grabbed his hat and walked out, leaving Alexander sitting all alone in the office.

            “I have a bad feeling about this…” he muttered under his breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys are enjoying this story! Please continue to leave comments, kudos, bookmark, and subscribe!
> 
> Also, I changed Victoria's last name to her actress' last name, just so that I could distinguish between the two Vinciguerras.


	5. Chapter 5

Meanwhile, up at the Washington Naval Yard, an M.P. was waving a procession of three Military Police sedans and a fourth unmarked car through the gate.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

A few M.P.I stood out front of another red brick building as the cars pulled up.  As soon as they came to a stop, all the doors swung open and various uniformed and non-uniformed officers hopped out and moved to the unmarked sedan where they then escorted Deuster and Stark, in handcuffs, out of the car.  Julian Michael Deuster was a handsome, young, black corporal.  Intense, controlled, and utterly professional.  Peter Stark, on the other hand, was a nineteen-year-old kid off an Iowa farm.  He was happiest when someone was telling him exactly what to do and he thought that Deuster was his hero.  As the prisoners stood there, looking around, there was a little bit of awe in their eyes.  They might as well have been in Oz.

         “Jul?” Peter asked.  Deuster did not answer.

         “Is this Washington, D.C.?” Peter continued.

         “Alright, let’s move” an M.P. ordered.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

While they were being led away, at a softball field, Napoleon was at it again.

         “Alright, let’s get tough out there” he called out as Illya walked up from behind the backstop.

         “Excuse me” he called out in his thick Russian accent.  Napoleon looked up at him and smiled slightly.

         “You want to suit up?  We need all the help we can get” he explained.  Illya shook his head.

         “нет, thank you.  I might hurt your players” he replied.  Napoleon shrugged.

         “I’m sure they can take it” he replied.  Illya hummed before he crossed his muscular arms.

         “I wanted to talk to you about Corporal Deuster and Private Stark” he started.  Napoleon frowned.

         “Say again?” he asked.

         “Deuster and Stark” Illya repeated.  Napoleon frowned again, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

         “Those names sound like they should mean something to me but I’m just not—” he started.

         “Deuster!  Stark!  Your clients!” Illya shouted angrily, accent thickening.  Napoleon’s eyes widened in remembrance and he snapped his fingers.

         “The Cuba thing, yes!  Deuster and Stark” he exclaimed before he paused.

         “Right” he muttered before he frowned and looked at Illya.

         “I’ve done something wrong again, haven’t I?” he asked.  Illya frowned at him.

         “I was wondering why two guys have been in jail since morning while their lawyer is outside hitting ball” he retorted.  Napoleon shrugged.

         “We need the practice” he replied.  Illya’s frown deepened.

         “That was not funny” he grumbled.  Napoleon smiled slightly.

         “It was a little funny” he replied.  Illy huffed.

         “Lieutenant, would you feel insulted if I recommended to your supervisor that he assign different counsel?” he asked.  Napoleon raised an eyebrow.

         “Why?” he asked.  Illya shrugged.

         “I do not think you are fit to handle this defense” he stated simply.  Napoleon crossed his arms.

         “You don’t even know me.  Ordinarily it takes someone hours to discover I’m not fit to handle a defense” he replied.  Illya only stared in reply.  Napoleon groaned and rolled his eyes.

         “Oh come on, that was damn funny” he complained.  Illya still said nothing as he took a step forward towards Napoleon and towered over him, slightly.

         “I do know you.  Napoleon Alistair Solo, born June 8th, 1964 at Boston Mercy Hospital.  Your father is Lionel Solo, former Navy Judge Advocate and Attorney General, of the United States, died 1985.  You went to Harvard Law on Navy scholarship, probably because that is what your father wanted you to do, and now you are just treading water for the three years you have got to serve in the JAG Corps, just laying low until you can get out and get real job.  And if that is the situation, that is fine, I will not tell anyone.  But my feeling is that if this case is handle in the same fast-food, slick-ass, Persian Bazaar manner with which you seem to handle everything else, something is going to get missed.  And I would not be doing my job if I allowed Deuster and Stark to spend any more time in prison than absolutely necessary, because their attorney has pre-determined the path of least resistance” he spat.  After listening to his speech, Napoleon couldn’t help but be impressed.

         “Wow…I’m sexually aroused, Commander” he teased.  Illya rolled his eyes.

         “I do not think your clients murdered anybody” he stated, avoiding Napoleon’s tease.  Napoleon raised an eyebrow, getting strictly to business.

         “What are you basing this on?” he asked.

         “There was no intent” Illya answered.

         “The doctor’s report says that Ananasso died of asphyxiation brought on by acute lactic acidosis and that the nature of the acidosis strongly suggests poisoning” Napoleon argued before he paused.

         “Now, I don’t know about you, but it sounds pretty bad” he added.  Illya crossed his arms.

         “Ananasso died at one a.m.  At three, the doctor was unable to determine the cause of death, but two hours later he said it was poison” he stated.  Napoleon nodded slowly.

         “Oh, now I see what you’re saying.  It had to be Professor Plum in the library with the candlestick” he teased.  Illya groaned and face-palmed.

         “I am going to speak to your supervisor” he growled.

         “Okay.  You go straight up Pennsylvania Avenue.  It’s a big white house with pillars in front” Napoleon stated sarcastically.  Illya nodded.

         “Thank you” he replied, also sarcastically.  Napoleon then shook his head.

         “I don’t think you’ll have much luck, though.  I was assigned by Division, remember?  Somebody over there thinks I’m a good lawyer.  So while I appreciate your interest and admire your enthusiasm, I think I can pretty much handle things myself” he snapped.  Illya raised an eyebrow at him before he hummed and crossed his arms.

         “Do you know what Code Red is?” he asked.  Napoleon didn’t, but he wasn’t about to tell Illya that.  Illya then smiled ruefully and shook his head.

         “Pity” he murmured.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Illya's a bit intimidating, isn't he?
> 
> Hope you guys are enjoying this story! Please continue to leave comments, kudos, bookmark, and subscribe!


	6. Chapter 6

After Napoleon spoke to Illya, he and Gaby went to the Brig to speak to Deuster and Stark.

            “Officer on deck, ten-hut” the M.P. called out after he led Napoleon and Gaby to Deuster and Stark’s cell.  Deuster and Stark quickly came to attention as the M.P. unlocked the cell door and let the lawyers in.

            “Sir, Lance Corporal Julian Michael Deuster, sir.  Rifle Security Company Windward, Second Platoon, Delta” Julian introduced.

            “Someone hasn’t been working and playing well with others, Julian” Napoleon mused.

            “Sir, yes sir!” Deuster barked.

            “Sir, PFC Peter Stark” Stark introduced.  Napoleon nodded.

            “I’m Napoleon Solo and this is Gaby Teller” he introduced before he motioned to Deuster and Stark.

            “You can sit down” he instructed.  Deuster and Stark weren’t too comfortable sitting in the presence of other officers, but they did as they were told.  Napoleon then pulled out some documents while Gaby sat on one of the cots, taking notes.

            “Is this your signature?” Napoleon asked, showing a document to Deuster.

            “Yes sir” Deuster answered.

            “You don’t have to call me sir” Napoleon stated before he turned to Stark.

            “Is this your signature?” he asked, showing another document to Stark, who nodded.

            “Sir, yes sir” he replied.

            “And you certainly don’t have to do it twice in one sentence” Napoleon stated with a small smile before he turned to Deuster, his face becoming neutral.

            “Julian, what’s a Code Red?” he asked.

            “Sir, a Code Red is a disciplinary engagement” Deuster answered.

            “What does that mean, exactly?” Napoleon inquired, crossing his arms.

            “Sir, when a marine falls out of line, it’s up to the men in his unit to get him back on track” Deuster replied. 

            “What’s a garden variety Code Red?” Napoleon asked.

            “Sir?” Deuster asked, confusion written all over his face.

            “Julian, you say _“sir”_ and I turn around and look for my father.  Call me Napoleon or Solo.  Garden variety; typical.  What’s a basic Code Red?” Napoleon asked.

            “Sir, a marine has refused to bath on a regular basis.  The men in his squad would give him a G.I. shower” Deuster answered.  Napoleon raised an eyebrow.

            “What’s that?” he asked.

            “Scrub brushes, brillo pads, steel wool…” Deuster rambled.

            “Beautiful” Gaby purred with a small smile.

            “Was the attack on Ananasso a Code Red?” Napoleon inquired.

            “Yes sir” Deuster answered.  Napoleon then turned to Stark.

            “Do you ever talk?” he asked.

            “Sir, Private Stark will answer any direct question you ask him” Deuster answered.  Napoleon nodded.

            “Swell.  Private Stark, the rag you stuffed in Ananasso’s mouth.  Was there poison on it?” he asked.  Stark shook his head.

            “No sir” he replied.

            “Silver polish, turpentine, anti-freeze…” Napoleon rattled off.  Stark shook his head again.

            “No sir.  We were gonna shave his head, sir” he answered.  Napoleon raised an eyebrow.

            “When all of a sudden…?” he started.

            “We saw blood dripping out of his mouth.  Then we pulled the tape off and there was blood all down his face, sir.  That’s when Corporal Deuster called the ambulance” Stark explained.  Napoleon nodded slowly, trying not to make too big of a deal out of that last piece of news.

            “Did anyone see you call the ambulance?” he asked, turning to Deuster.

            “No, sir” Deuster answered.

            “Were you there when the ambulance got there?” Napoleon continued.  Deuster nodded.

            “Yes sir, that’s when we were taken under arrest” he answered.  Napoleon nodded slowly as he strolled over to the corner of the cell to think for a moment.

            “On the night of August 2nd, did you fire a shot across the fence line into Cuba?” Gaby asked, looking at Deuster.  Deuster nodded.

            “Yes ma’am” he replied.

            “Why?” Gaby inquired.

            “My mirror engaged, ma’am” Deuster explained.

            “Your mirror engaged?” Gaby repeated, making Napoleon look over at her.

            “For every American sentry post, there’s a Cuban counterpart.  They’re called mirrors.  The corporal’s claiming that his mirror was about to fire at him” he explained before turning to Deuster.

            “Ananasso’s letter to the NIS said you fired illegally.  He’s saying that the guy, your mirror, never made a move” he stated.  Deuster said nothing.

            “Oh, Julian?” Napoleon asked as Gaby stared at Deuster.

            “You see what I’m getting at?  If Ananasso didn’t have anything on you, then why did you give him a Code Red?” he continued.

            “Because he broke the chain of command, sir” Deuster answered.  Napoleon and Gaby frowned.

            “He what?” Gaby asked.

            “He went outside his unit, ma’am.  If he had a problem, he should have spoken to me, sir.  Then his Sergeant, then Company Commander, then—” Deuster started when Napoleon held up a hand to stop him.

            “Yeah, yeah, alright.  Julian, did you assault Ananasso with the intent of killing him?” he demanded.

            “No sir” Deuster answered.

            “What was your intent?” Napoleon countered.

            “To train him, sir” Deuster replied.

            “Train him to do what?” Napoleon asked.

            “Train him to think of his unit before himself.  To respect the code” Deuster answered.

            “What’s the code?” Gaby asked. 

            “Unit, Corps, God, Country” Deuster replied.

            “I beg your pardon?” Gaby questioned.

            “Unit, Corps, God, Country, ma’am” Deuster repeated.

            “The Government of the United States wants to charge you two with murder.  You want me to go to the prosecutor with _“Unit, Corps, God, Country”_?” Napoleon sneered.  Deuster stared back at him.

            “That’s our code, sir” he stated simply.  Napoleon was quiet for a long moment before he picked up his briefcase and moved to the door, Gaby following behind.

            “We’ll be back.  You guys need anything?  Books, paper, cigarettes, a ham sandwich?” he asked.  Deuster shook his head.

            “Sir.  No thank you.  Sir” he answered.  Napoleon smiled at him.

            “Julian, I think there’s a concept you better start warming up to” he stated.

            “Sir?” Deuster asked, confused.  Napoleon winked at him.

            “I’m the only friend you’ve got” he stated before he and Gaby walked out of the open cell door.  Deuster and Stark immediately came to attention and snapped a salute, holding it until Napoleon and Gaby were well out of sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys are enjoying this story! Please continue to leave comments, kudos, bookmark, and subscribe!


	7. Chapter 7

The next day, in Napoleon’s office, he was packing stuff into his briefcase after a long workday when Lieutenant Adam James, a marine lawyer a few years older than Napoleon, opened the door and walked in.

            “Nap Solo” he called out.  Napoleon looked up from his briefcase and smiled.

            “Sailin’ Adam James” he replied, making Adam smile as well.

            “Welcome to the big time” he teased.  Napoleon raised an eyebrow.

            “You think so?” he asked.  Adam shook his head.

            “I hope for Deuster and Stark’s sake you practice law better than you play softball” he replied.  Napoleon chuckled.

            “Unfortunately for Deuster and Stark, I don’t do anything better than I play softball” he stated before he put his hands on his hips.

            “What are we looking at?” he asked.

            “They plead guilty to manslaughter, I’ll drop the conspiracy and the conduct unbecoming.  20 years, they’ll be home in half that time” Adam answered.  Napoleon narrowed his eyes as crossed his arms.

            “I want twelve” he declared.  Adam shook his head.

            “Can’t do it” he replied.

            “They called the ambulance, Adam” Napoleon pleaded.

            “I don’t care if they called the Avon Lady; they killed a marine” Adam argued.

            “The rag was tested for poison.  The autopsy, lab report, even the initial E.R. and C.O.D reports, they all said the same thing: maybe, maybe not” Napoleon countered.

            “The Chief of Internal Medicine at the Guantanamo Bay Naval hospital said he’s sure” James argued.

            “What do you know about Code Reds?” Napoleon asked, quickly changing the subject.  James blinked before he smiled and shook his head

            “Oh man” he murmured before he walked over to the door and shut it.

            “Are we off the record?” he asked.  Napoleon shrugged.

            “You tell me” he replied.  James sighed.

            “I’m gonna give you the twelve years, but before you go get yourself into trouble tomorrow, you should know this: the platoon commander, Lieutenant Victoria Debicki, had a meeting with the men.  And she specifically told them NOT to touch Ananasso” he stated, making Napoleon pause for a moment.  Deuster and Stark neglected to mention this little piece of information.  He then shook himself out of it and finished packing up his briefcase before picking up his cleats.

            “I’ll talk to you when I get back” he stated.

            “Hey, we got a little four-on-four going on tomorrow night.  When does your plane get in?” James asked with a smile.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

Later on that evening, in the parking lot, many people were heading home as the flag was being lowered behind them.  As Napoleon headed towards his car, Illya intercepted him and started to walking along beside him.

            “Добрый вечер” he greeted.  Napoleon looked at him out of the side of his eye and smiled.

            “Добрый вечер.  Any luck getting me replaced?” he asked.  Illya blinked.  He didn’t expect Napoleon to speak Russian.  That was a first.

            “You speak Russian?” he asked.  Napoleon glanced at him and nodded.

            “It’s not good, but it’s not bad either” he replied.  Illya nodded in agreement.

            “You are right, it is not bad.  But is there anyone in this command you do not either drink or play softball with?” he asked, changing subjects.

            “Commander—” Napoleon started when Illya held up a hand.

            “Listen, I came to make peace.  We started off on wrong foot.  What do you say?  Friends?” he asked.  Napoleon shook his head.

            “Look, I don’t—” he started.

            “By the way, I brought Stark some comic books he was asking for.  The kid, Napoleon, I swear, he does not know where he is, he does not even know why he has been arrested” Illya interjected.

            “Commander—” Napoleon tried again.

            “You can call me Illya—” Illya interrupted.

            “Illya—” Napoleon started for the fourth time.

            “—or Kuryakin” Illya added.  Napoleon raised an eyebrow before he shook his head.

            “Peril, if you ever speak to a client of mine again without my permission, I’ll have you disbarred.  Friends?” he asked, holding out a hand with a smile.  Illya blinked at the nickname before he hummed and shook Napoleon’s hand.

            “I had authorization” he stated as he pulled his hand away.  Napoleon raised an eyebrow as he also pulled his hand away.

            “From who?” he demanded.

            “Stark’s closest living relative, Ginny Miller; his aunt on mother’s side” Illya answered.  Napoleon raised an eyebrow again.

            “You got authorization from Aunt Ginny?” he asked, surprised.  Illya nodded.

            “I gave her call like you asked.  Very nice woman, we talked for about an hour” he stated.  Napoleon shook his head.

            “You got authorization from Aunt Ginny” he repeated.

            “Perfectly within my province” Illya argued.

            “Does Aunt Ginny have a barn?  We can hold the trial there.  I can sew the costumes and maybe his Uncle Goober can be the judge” Napoleon snapped as he and Illya arrived at his car.  Illya hummed as he stepped aside and let Napoleon get into his car.

            “I am going to Cuba with you tomorrow” he added.  Napoleon groaned softly.

            “And the hits just keep on comin’” he grumbled.  Illya smirked.

            “Good evening, Lieutenant” he bid before he turned and walked away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys are enjoying this story! Please continue to leave comments, kudos, bookmark, and subscribe!


	8. Chapter 8

After speaking to Illya, Napoleon drove down a Washington street before pulling over at a sidewalk newsstand.  He then got out of his car, leaving the lights flashing, and ran up to the newsstand, plunking his 35 cents down before picking up a newspaper.

            “How’s it going, Rudi?” he asked, glancing at the newsstand operator.

            “Another day, another dollar, captain” Rudi answered.

            “You gotta play ‘em as they lay, Rudi” Napoleon advised.

            “What comes around goes around, you know what I’m sayin’” Rudi replied.

            “If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em” Napoleon bantered.

            “Hey, if you’ve got your health, you got everything” Rudi stated.

            “Love makes the world go round.  I’ll see you tomorrow, Rudi” Napoleon bid before he hopped back in his car and drove off.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

He drove for a while before he stopped in front of Gaby’s house and got out of the car, heading for the front door.  He then opened it, knowing that Gaby was expecting him.  When he walked inside, he saw Gaby standing over a crib.

            “When Daniel gets back, you’re my witness.  The baby spoke.  My daughter said a word” Gaby declared, smiling with pride as Napoleon walked over to the mini bar and pulled out a beer.

            “Your daughter made a sound, Gabs.  I’m not sure it was a word” he replied.  Gaby looked over at him and rolled her eyes.

            “Oh come on, it was a word” she exclaimed.  Napoleon shrugged.

            “Whatever you say, Gabs” he replied.

            “You heard her.  The girl sat here, pointed, and said _“Ma”_.  She did.  She said _“Ma”_ ” Gaby reiterated. 

            “She was pointing at a doorknob” Napoleon corrected as he walked into the living room.

            “That’s right.  Pointing, as if to say, _“Ma, look, a doorknob”_ ” Gaby argued before she went to join him in the living room.

            “Adam James came to see me today.  He offered me twelve years” Napoleon confessed.

            “That’s what you wanted” Gaby agreed.  Napoleon nodded.

            “I know, and I’ll…I guess, I mean…” he started before he paused.

            “I’ll take it” he declared.  Gaby raised an eyebrow.

            “So?” she asked.  Napoleon shook his head.

            “It took all about forty-five seconds.  He barely put up a fight” he grumbled.  Gaby smiled softly.

            “Napoleon, take the twelve years.  It’s a gift” she advised.  Napoleon grunted before he finished off his beer.

            “You don’t believe their story, do you?  You think they ought to go to jail for the rest of their lives” he stated.  Gaby shrugged.

            “I believe every word they said.  And I think they ought to go to jail for the rest of their lives” she agreed.  Napoleon hummed as he walked into the kitchen and placed the bottle into the trashcan before he walked towards the door and opened it.

            “I’ll see you tomorrow” he bid.  Gaby nodded and walked over to the door, both lawyers standing on the stoop.

            “Remember to wear your whites.  It’s hot down there” Gaby reminded.

            “I don’t like the whites” Napoleon grumbled.  Gaby chuckled and shook her head.

            “Nobody likes the whites but we’re going to Cuba in August.  You got Dramamine?” she asked.  Napoleon raised an eyebrow.

            “Dramamine keeps you cool?” he asked.  Gaby rolled her eyes.

            “Dramamine keeps you from throwing up.  You get sick when you fly” she reminded.  Napoleon huffed.

            “I get sick when I fly because I’m afraid of crashing into a large mountain.  I don’t think Dramamine will help” he stated.  Gaby smiled.

            “I’ve got some oregano; I hear that works pretty good” she offered.  Napoleon rolled his eyes.

            “Yeah, right” he murmured before he started towards his car, pausing for a moment.

            “You know, Adam said the strangest thing to me right before I left” he called out.  Gaby raised an eyebrow.

            “What did he say?” she asked.  Napoleon turned to face her and put his hands on his hips.

            “He said the platoon commander, Lieutenant Victoria Debicki had a meeting with the men and specifically told them not to touch Ananasso” he answered.  Gaby crossed her arms.

            “So?” she asked.

            “I never mentioned Debicki.  I don’t even know who she is” Napoleon replied before he shook his head.

            “What the hell?” he exclaimed.  He then sighed and waved goodbye.

            “I’ll see you tomorrow” he bid before he turned and began to walk towards his car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys are enjoying this story! Please continue to leave comments, kudos, bookmark, and subscribe!


	9. Chapter 9

At the airstrip at Guantanamo Bay, the whole place, in stark contrast to the Washington Navy Yard, was ready to go to war.  Fighter jets lined the tarmac as ground crews re-fueled planes.  There was hurried activity everywhere.  Suddenly, a 36 seat Air Force Jet rolled to a stop on the tarmac and a stair unit was brought out.  Meanwhile, Jeffery Howard, a marine corporal, was waiting by the stairway as the passengers began to get off.  Most were marines, a few were sailors, a couple were civilians, and finally, Napoleon, Illya, and Gaby were the last to get off.  Gaby and Napoleon were dressed in their summer whites while Illya was dressed in his khakis.  As they walked down the stairs, Napoleon and Gaby stared out at their surroundings: they were most certainly not in Kansas anymore.

            “Lieutenants Solo and Teller?” Howard shouted over the plane noise.

            “Yeah” Napoleon shouted back.

            “Commander Kuryakin” Illya added.

            “I’m Corporal Howard, sir.  I’m to escort you to the Windward side of the base” Howard shouted. 

            “Thank you” Illya replied.

            “I’ve got some camouflage jackets in the back of the jeep, sir and ma’am, I’ll have to ask the both of you to put them on” Howard stated, turning to Napoleon and Gaby.  Napoleon raised an eyebrow.

            “Camouflage jackets?” he repeated.  Howard nodded.

            “Regulations, sir.  We’ll be riding pretty close to the fence line.  The Cubans see an officer wearing white, they think it’s someone they might wanna take a shot at” he explained.  Napoleon blinked before he turned to glare at Gaby.

            “Nice call, Gaby” he growled.  Gaby smiled apologetically.

            “Sorry” she apologized.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

After putting on the camouflage jackets, Illya, Napoleon, Gaby, and Howard got into a jeep and tore down the road, looking at the beautiful expanse of water that spanned maybe 1000 yards across.

            “We’ll just hop on a ferry and be other there in no time!” Howard shouted over the roar of the road.

            “Whoa, hold on!  We gotta take a boat?!” Napoleon shouted back.

            “Yes sir, to get to the other side of the bay” Howard replied.  Napoleon shook his head.

            “Nobody said anything about a boat” he grumbled.

            “Is there a problem, sir?” Howard asked, still shouting.  Napoleon shook his head again.

            “No.  No problem.  I’m just not that crazy about boats, that’s all” he answered.  Illya looked over at him and shook his head.

            “Jesus Christ, Cowboy, you are in Navy for crying out loud!” he shouted.  Napoleon narrowed his eyes at the nickname.  He wondered if it was payback for calling Illya _“Peril”._ He then looked towards Howard.

            “Nobody likes him very much” he shouted, motioning to Illya with his head.  Howard nodded with a small smile.

            “Yes sir” he replied.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

After the boat ride, Napoleon, Illya, and Gaby were greeted on the other side of the bay by Colonel Sander, Lieutenant Debicki, and Captain Vinciguerra.

            “Nathan Sanders.  Come on in and siddown” Sanders ordered.  Napoleon nodded.

            “Thank you.  My name is Napoleon Solo, I’m the attorney for Deuster and Stark.  This is Illya Kuryakin, he’s observing and evaluating—” he started.

            “Colonel” Illya greeted, shaking hands with Sanders.

            “Pleased to meet you, Commander” Sanders replied with a thin smile.  Napoleon then motioned to Gaby.

            “Gabrielle Teller.  She has no responsibility here whatsoever” he introduced.  Colonel Sanders nodded before he motioned to Lieutenant Debicki and Captain Vinciguerra, who were standing behind him.

            “I’ve asked Captain Vinciguerra and Lieutenant Debicki to join us” he stated.

            “Lieutenant Solo, I had the pleasure of seeing your father once.  I was a teenager and he spoke at my high school” Alexander stated with a smile.  Napoleon looked over at him and flashed him a smile while Colonel Sanders frowned.

            “Lionel Solo?” he asked.  Napoleon nodded.

            “Yes sir” he replied.  Sanders then put his hands on his hips.

            “Well I’ll be damned.  Son, this man’s dad once made a lot of enemies down in your neck of the woods.  Jefferson vs. Madison County School District.  The folks down there said a little black girl couldn’t go to an all-white school, Lionel Solo said we’ll just see about that.  How the hell is your dad?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

            “He passed away seven years ago, Colonel” Napoleon answered softly.  Sanders blinked before he shook his head.

            “Well…don’t I feel like the fucking asshole” he grumbled.  Napoleon quirked a small smile before he shook his head.

            “Not at all, sir” he replied.  Sanders then cleared his throat.

            “Well, what can we do you for, Solo?” he asked.

            “Not much at all, sir, I’m afraid.  This is really a formality more than anything else.  The JAG Corps insists that I interview all the relevant witnesses” Napoleon explained as Illya crossed his arms.

            “The JAG Corps can be demanding that way” he added.  Sanders smiled slightly.

            “Victoria’ll take you out and show you what you wanna see, then we can all hook up for lunch, how does that sound?” he asked.

            “Fine sir” Napoleon replied with a nod.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys are enjoying this story! Please continue to leave comments, kudos, bookmark, and subscribe!
> 
> Also, if you wanna talk to me about fanfiction, ask me questions, or whatever, hit me up or follow me on my tumblr: https://the-sassiest-trixster.tumblr.com/


	10. Chapter 10

After speaking to Sanders, a jeep, carrying Lieutenant Debicki and the three lawyers, cruised down the road near the fence line.

            “I understand you had a meeting with your men that afternoon” Napoleon started.  Victoria nodded.

            “Yes” she answered.  Napoleon raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms.

            “What’d you guys talk about?” he asked.

            “I told the men that threw was an informer among us.  And that despite any desire they might have to seek retribution, Private Ananasso was not to be harmed in any way” Victoria replied.

            “What time was that meeting?” Napoleon inquired.

            “Sixteen-hundred” Victoria answered.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

After the jeep ride, in the barracks corridor, Victoria led the lawyers down the hallway to Ananasso’s room.  When they reached his room, two strips of tape that warned: DO NOT ENTER – AT ORDER OF THE MILITARY POLICE were crisscrossed over the door.  Victoria reached out and turned the doorknob, opening the door before stepping through, the three lawyers following behind.  As they stepped inside, they found that the room was exactly as it was left that night, with the un-made bed and knocked over chair.  The room was rather sparse in Napoleon, Illya, and Gaby’s eyes as they continued to look around.  Napoleon then headed over to Ananasso’s closet and opened it, finding a row of uniforms hanging neatly.  He thumbed through them for a second, hoping for something, but he found nothing.  He then opened the footlocker and found that the socks and underwear were all folded to Marine Corp precision.  There was also a shaving kit, a couple of photographs, a pad of writing paper and some envelopes. 

            “Gaby, someone should see about getting this stuff to his parents.  We don’t need it anymore” Napoleon called out as he closed the footlocker.

            “Actually, the uniforms belong to the Marine Corps” Victoria stated.  Illya, Napoleon, and Gaby paused for a moment before Napoleon turned towards Victoria.

            “Lieutenant Debicki…can I call you Victoria?” he asked.  Victoria frowned and narrowed her eyes.

            “No, you may not” she snapped.  Napoleon frowned.

            “Have I done something to offend you?” he asked.  Victoria shook her head.

            “No, I like all you Navy boys.  Every time we’ve gotta go someplace and fight, you fellas always give us a ride” she replied.

            “Lieutenant Debicki, do you think Ananasso was murdered?” Illya asked, crossing his arms.  Victoria turned and looked at him.

            “Commander, I believe in God and in his son Jesus Christ and because I do, I can say this: Private Ananasso is dead and that is a tragedy.  But he’s dead because he had no code.  He’s dead because he had no honor.  And God was watching” she answered.  Gaby frowned before she turned towards Napoleon.

            “How do you feel about this theory?” she asked.  Napoleon shrugged.

            “Sounds good to me.  Let’s move on” he ordered.  Gaby nodded and followed after Napoleon as they headed for the door when Illya held out a hand to stop them.

            “Are you planning on doing any investigating or are you just going to take guided tour?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at the American and German.  Napoleon paused and gave him a thoughtful look before he smiled slightly.

            “I’m pacing myself” he replied.

 

 ~*~*~*~*~

 

After looking through Ananasso’s room, at the Officer’s Club, Colonel Sanders, Alexander, Victoria, and the three lawyers were seated at a table in the corner away from everyone.  While the stewards were clearing the lunch dishes and pouring coffee, Sanders was just finishing a story.

            “…And they spent the next three hours running around, looking for Americans to surrender to” he finished before he laughed, Victoria joining him.  Gaby and Napoleon forced a laugh while Alexander forced a smile.  Illya just remained silent.

            “That was delicious, men, thank you” Sanders then thanked, looking over at the stewards.  One of the stewards bowed.

            “Our pleasure, sir” he replied.  Napoleon then cleared his throat.

            “Colonel, I just need to ask you a couple of questions about August 6th” he stated.  Sanders shrugged.

            “Shoot” he replied.

            “On the morning of the sixth, you were contacted by a NIS agent who said that Ananasso had tipped him off to an illegal fence line shooting” Napoleon started.

            “Yes” Sanders agreed, nodding.

            “Ananasso was going to reveal the person’s name in exchange for a transfer.  Am I getting this right?” Napoleon continued.  Sanders nodded again.

            “Yes” he agreed.

            “If you feel there are any details that I’m missing, you should feel free to speak up” Napoleon advised, making Sanders stare at him.  He wasn’t quite sure what to say to this Navy Lawyer Lieutenant-Smartass guy who just gave him permission to speak freely on his own base.

            “Thank you” he gritted out.  Napoleon then cleared his throat.

            “Now it was at this point that you called Captain Vinciguerra and Lieutenant Debicki into your office?” he asked.  Sanders nodded.

            “Yes” he replied.

            “And what happened there?” Napoleon asked.

            “We agreed that for his own safety, Ananasso should be transferred off the base” Sanders answered.  That was something else Napoleon didn’t know.  Neither did Illya.  Gaby meanwhile pulled out a pen and jotted something down on a small notepad.  Captain Vinciguerra didn’t even flinch.

            “Ananasso was set to be transferred?” Napoleon repeated.  Sanders nodded.

            “On the first available flight to the states.  Six the next morning.  Three hours too late as it turns out” he stated.  Napoleon nodded.

            “Yeah” he agreed before silence fell over the table.  Napoleon then reached out and grabbed his cup of coffee, taking a sip before draining the whole cup and putting it down.

            “Alright, that’s all I have.  Thank you very much for your time” he thanked.  Sanders nodded.

            “The corporal’s got the jeep outside; he’ll take you back to the airstrip” he stated.

            “Thank you” Napoleon thanked again as he stood up.

            “Wait a minute, I have some questions” Illya stated, making Napoleon look at him.

            “No, you don’t” he argued.  Illya looked over at him and nodded.

            “Yes, I do” he stated.  Napoleon narrowed his eyes.

            “No, you don’t” he growled.  Illya shook his head, ignoring Napoleon.

            “Colonel, on the morning Ananasso died, did you meet with Doctor Stone between three and five?” he asked.

            “Peril—” Napoleon started.

            “Of course I met with the doctor.  One of my men was dead” Sanders growled.

            “See?  The man was dead.  Let’s go” Napoleon urged, looking at Illya, who just continued to ignore him.

            “I was wondering if you have heard the term Code Red” Illya asked, looking at Sanders.

            “Peril—” Napoleon warned.

            “I’ve heard the term, yes” Sanders answered.  Illya then crossed his arms.

            “Colonel, this past February, you received cautionary memo from the Naval Investigative Service, warning that practice of enlisted men discipling their own was not to be condoned by officers” he stated.

            “I submit to you that whoever wrote that memo has never served on the working end of a Soviet-made Cuban MI-AI6 Assault Rifle.  However, the directive having from the NIS, I gave it its due attention.  What’s your point, Kuryakin?” Sanders growled.  Napoleon quickly stepped in before things got ugly.

            “He has no point.  He often has no point.  It’s part of his charm.  We’re outta here.  Thank you” he stated.

            “My point is that I think Code Reds still go on down here.  Do Code Reds still happen on this base, Colonel?” Illya asked, slowly becoming angry.  And when he became angry, whoever was in his way had better run.

            “Peril, the Colonel doesn’t need to answer that” Napoleon argued.  Illya turned and glared at him.

            “Yes, he does” he snarled.  Napoleon shook his head.

            “No, he really doesn’t” he argued.

            “Yes, he really does.  Colonel?” Illya asked, turning back to Sanders.  Sanders smirked.

            “You know, it just hit me.  He outranks you, Solo” he mused.  Napoleon nodded.

            “Yes sir” he replied.  Sanders then smiled.

            “I want to tell you something Napoleon, and listen up ‘cause I mean this: You’re the luckiest man in the world.  There is, believe me gentlemen, nothing sexier on earth than a man or woman you have to salute in the morning.  Promote ‘em all, I say” he stated.  Illya was not upset.  (Yet).  He was not mad.  (Yet).  But he was going to ask his question until he got his answer.

            “Colonel, the practice of Code Reds is still condoned by officers on this base, yes?” he asked.

            “You see, my problem is, of course, that I’m a Colonel.  I’ll just have to keep taking cold showers ‘til they elect some gal President” Sanders answered, skirting around Illya’s question.

            “I need an answer to the question, sir” Illya snapped.  Sanders narrowed his eyes at him.

            “Take caution in your tone, Commander.  I’m a fair guy, but this fucking heat’s making me absolutely crazy.  You want to know about Code Reds?  On the record I’ll tell you that I discourage the practice in accordance with the NIS directive.  Off the record I’ll tell you that it’s an invaluable part of close infantry training and if it happens to go on without my knowledge, so be it.  I run my base how I run my base.  You want to investigate me, roll the dice and take your chances.  I eat breakfast 80 yards away from 4000 Cubans who are trained to kill me.  So don’t for one second think you’re gonna come down here, flash a badge, and make me nervous” he growled.  Illya looked at the man and clenched his hands into fists, icy blue eyes flashing dangerously.  He was SO close to standing up and strangling the man in front of him, but he forced himself to behave.  Thankfully Napoleon got the hint that something bad was about to happen, so he stepped in just in time.

            “Let’s go” he ordered before he looked at Sanders.

            “Colonel, I’ll just need a copy of Ananasso’s transfer orders” he stated.  Sanders looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

            “What’s that?” he asked.  Napoleon rolled his eyes.

            “Ananasso’s transfer orders.  You guys have paper work on that kind of thing, I just need it for the file” he explained.  Sanders narrowed his eyes.

            “For the file” he repeated.  Napoleon nodded.

            “Yes” he replied.  Sanders paused before he nodded.

            “Of course you can have a copy of the transfer order.  For the file.  I’m here to help anyway I can” he assured.  Napoleon bowed slightly.

            “Thank you” he thanked.  Sanders then looked at him earnestly.

            “You believe that, don’t you Solo?  That I’m here to help anyway I can?” he asked.  Napoleon nodded.

            “Of course” he replied.

            “The corporal’ll run you by Ordinance on your way to the airstrip.  You can have all the transfer orders you want” Sanders stated.  Napoleon nodded before looking over at Illya and Gaby.

            “Let’s go” he ordered, the three of them turning to leave.

            “But you have to ask me nicely” Sanders suddenly called out.  Napoleon stopped and turned, Gaby and Illya stopping and turning as well.

            “I beg your pardon?” Napoleon asked.  Sanders smiled dangerously.

            “You have to ask me nicely.  You see, Solo, I can deal with the bullets and the bombs and the blood.  I can deal with the heat and the stress and the fear.  I don’t want money and I don’t want medals.  What I want is for you to stand there in that faggoty white uniform and with your Harvard mouth, extend me some fucking courtesy.  You gotta ask me nicely” he replied.  Napoleon blinked, lost for words as he and Sanders stared at one another.  Everyone was staring at him; the officers at their tables, Lieutenant Debicki, Gaby, Captain Vinciguerra, Illya.  He then took a deep breath and made his decision.

            “Colonel Sanders…if it’s not too much trouble, I’d like a copy of the transfer order.  Sir” he asked with a thin lipped smile.  Sanders then smiled in return.

            “No problem” he replied.  As Sanders and Napoleon stared at one another, Illya stared at them as well, but mainly at Napoleon.  He was very disappointed in the American.  Napoleon then turned and left, Gaby and Illya following after him.  Once they were gone, Sanders glanced at Captain Vinciguerra.

            “I hate casualties, Alexander.  There are casualties even in victory.  A marine smothers a grenade and saves his platoon, that marine’s a hero.  The foundation of the unit, the fabric of this base, the spirit of the Corps, they are things worth fighting for” he stated.  Alexander said nothing as he looked at the ground.

            “Deuster and Stark, they don’t know it, but they’re smothering a grenade” Sanders continued.  Alexander quickly looked up in surprise.

            _‘What the hell are you talking about?’_ he thought to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys are enjoying this story! Please continue to leave comments, kudos, bookmark, and subscribe! If you wish to talk to me about fanfiction, ask me questions, or just follow me, hit me up on my tumblr: https://the-sassiest-trixster.tumblr.com/


	11. Chapter 11

After the flight back from Cuba to Washington D.C., in a small apartment, a little one-bedroom with just the bare essential furniture, barely even that, Napoleon was sitting and watching a baseball game on TV.  In one hand, he was holding a copy of _“The Baseball Encyclopedia”_ , normally his favorite reading material, but at the moment he was having trouble keeping his mind in it.  And in the other, he was holding a baseball bat and fiddling with it.  The remnants of a pizza and Yoo-Hoo dinner sat next to him while his white uniform laid in a pile in the corner of the room.  Suddenly, there was a buzz at the door, making Napoleon look up.  He wasn’t expecting anyone.

         “Who is it?” he called out.

         “It’s me” Illya’s thick Russian voice called back.  Napoleon blinked before he stood up and walked over to the door and opened it, allowing Illya to enter.  He then smiled cheekily.

         “I’ve really missed you, Peril.  I was just saying to myself, _“It’s been almost three hours since I last saw—”_ ” he started.

         “Alexander Vinciguerra resigned his commission” Illya interrupted.  Napoleon paused.

         “When?” he demanded.

         “This afternoon.  Sometime after we left” Illya answered.  Napoleon frowned before he shrugged.

         “I’ll talk to him in the morning” he stated.  Illya shook his head.

         “I already tried, I cannot find him” he replied.  Napoleon raised an eyebrow.

         “You tried?  Peril, you’re coming dangerously close to the textbook definition of interfering with a government investigation” he reminded.  Illya said nothing as he handed Napoleon the file he hand been holding.

         “I am Peter Stark’s attorney” he stated.  Napoleon blinked, stunned into silence.  He then opened the file and began to read.

         “Aunt Ginny.  She said she feels like she had known me for years.  I suggested she might feel more comfortable if I were directly involved with case.  She had Peter sign papers about an hour ago” Illya explained.  Napoleon then looked up, still too stunned to say anything.

         “I suppose it’s way too much to hope that you’re just making this up to bother me” he stated finally.  Illy shook his head.

         “Do not worry, I am not going to make motion for separation, you are still lead counsel” he assured as Napoleon handed him back the file.

         “Splendid” Napoleon grumbled.  Illya then crossed his arms.

         “I think Lieutenant Debicki ordered Code Red” he stated before he looked at Napoleon, who was looking back at him with impossibly blue eyes.

         “So do you” he added.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

That night, after leaving Napoleon’s apartment, Illya and Napoleon headed to the holding room, where Deuster and Stark immediately came to attention.

         “Officer on deck, ten hut” Deuster shouted.

         “Did Lieutenant Debicki order the Code Red?” Napoleon demanded, getting right to the point.  Deuster raised an eyebrow.

         “Sir?” he asked.  Napoleon growled.

         “Don’t say _“sir”_ like I just asked if you cleaned the latrine.  You heard what I said.  Did Lieutenant Debicki order you guys to give Ananasso a Code Red?” he snapped.  Deuster nodded.

         “Yes sir” he answered.  Napoleon then turned to Stark.

         “Did she?” he demanded.  Stark nodded.

         “Yes sir” he agreed.  Napoleon bristled.

         “You mind telling me why the hell you never mentioned this before?” he shouted.  Deuster shrugged.

         “You didn’t ask us, sir” he replied.  Napoleon bristled even more.

         “Cutie-pie shit’s not gonna win you a place in my heart, corporal.  I get paid no matter how much time you spend in jail” he spat.  Deuster nodded.

         “Yes sir.  I know you do, sir” he replied.  Napoleon swore he was seeing red.

         “Fuck you, Julian” he spat.  After that statement, there was some understandable tension in the room, but thankfully Illya stepped in to break it up.

         “Alright, let us sort this out” he soothed before he looked at Deuster and Stark.

         “There was a platoon meeting on August 6th at four in the afternoon.  And Lieutenant Debicki, she gave strict instructions that nothing was to happen to Ananasso.  Now is that true?  I want you to speak freely” he advised.

         “Sir, that’s correct.  But she then dismissed the platoon and we all went to our rooms” Deuster answered.

         “What happened then?” Illya asked.

         “Lieutenant Debicki came to our room, sir” Deuster replied.

         “When?” Napoleon demanded.

         “About five minutes after the meeting broke, sir.  About 16:20” Deuster replied.  Napoleon crossed his arms.  

         “And what happened then?” he asked.  Deuster said nothing as he looked Napoleon straight in the eyes.

         “Lieutenant Debicki ordered us to give Ananasso a Code Red” he answered.

 

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

After Napoleon and Illya spoke to Deuster and Stark, they went to the gymnasium where Adam James and a few other officers were playing a game of full-court basketball. 

         “James!” Napoleon shouted as he and Illya headed down the sideline towards Adam.

         “James!!” he shouted again but James just waved him off.

         “Hang on…” he called back.

         “They were given an order” Napoleon deadpanned, raising his voice.  James immediately stopped cold and looked over at Napoleon, the game flying by him.  He then motioned to the locker room door in the corner of the gym and the three men made their way to privacy.

         “How long have you know about order?” Illya demanded as he crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow.  James frowned.

         “I didn’t—” he started before he turned to Napoleon and motioned to Illya.

         “Who’s this?” he demanded.  Napoleon smiled.

         “This is Illya Kuryakin, Stark’s lawyer.  He’s very pleased to meet you” he replied.  James hummed before he turned back to look up at the tall Russian.

         “What exactly are you accusing me, Commander?” he growled.  Illya narrowed his icy blue eyes.

         “I am accusing you of—” he started when Napoleon slammed the locker room door behind them.

         “James didn’t know about the order.  Because if he did and hadn’t told us, James knows he’d be violating about 14 articles of the code of ethics.  As it is, he’s got enough to worry about.  God forbid our clients decide to plead not guilty and testify for the record that they were given an order” he snapped.

         “Lieutenant Debicki specifically told the men not to touch Ananasso” James reiterated, confused.  Napoleon nodded.

         “That’s right.  And then she went into Deuster and Stark’s room and specifically told them to give him a Code Red” he replied.  James frowned.

         “That’s not what Lieutenant Debicki said” he grumbled.

         “Lieutenant Debicki’s lying” Napoleon stated.

         “You have proof?” James asked, raising an eyebrow.  Napoleon shrugged.

         “I have the defendants” he replied.  James crossed his arms.

         “And I have 23 marines who aren’t accused of murder and a lieutenant with four letters of commendation” he countered.

         “Why did Captain Vinciguerra resign his commission?” Napoleon asked.

         “We’ll never know” James replied with a shrug.  Napoleon sighed.

         “You don’t think I can subpoena Vinciguerra” he stated.  James shrugged again.

         “You can try, but you won’t find him.  You know what Vinciguerra did for the first 17 of his 21 years in the corps?  Counter Intelligence.  Vinciguerra’s gone.  There is no Vinciguerra” he stated.  Napoleon deflated slight, some of the wind taken out of his sails.

         “Sanders’ star is on the rise.  Division’ll give me a lot of room to spare Sanders and the corps any embarrassment” James continued.

         “How much room?” Napoleon asked, raising an eyebrow.

         “I’ll knock it all down to assault.  Two years.  They’re home in six months” James stated.  Illya shook his head.

         “No deal, we are going to jury” he interjected.  Napoleon side-eyed him.

         “Peril—” he started.

         “No, you’re not” James snapped.  Illya crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow.

         “Why not?” he asked.  James huffed.

         “Cuz you’ll lose, and Solo knows it.  And he know that if we go to court, I’ll have to go all the way, they’ll be charged with the whole truckload.  Murder, Conspiracy, Conduct Unbecoming, and even though he’s got me by the balls out here, Napoleon knows that in a courtroom, he’ll lose this case.  Solo’s an awfully talented lawyer and he’s not about to send his clients to jail for life when he knows they could be home in six months” he retorted.  Illya hummed as he stared at James.  The man was just as good as Napoleon, that much was very clear to him now.

         “That’s the end of this negotiation.  From this moment, we’re on the record.  I’ll see you tomorrow morning at the arraignment” he bid before he turned and headed back to the gym.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys are enjoying this story! Please continue to leave comments, kudos, bookmark, and subscribe! If you wish to talk fanfiction, ask me questions, or just feel like following me, hit me up on my tumblr: https://the-sassiest-trixster.tumblr.com/


	12. Chapter 12

After speaking to James, Napoleon and Illya went back to the holding room to speak to Deuster and Stark.

         “Here’s the story: The Government’s offering Assault and Conduct Unbecoming.  Two years.  You’ll be home in six months” he explained.  Deuster and Stark said nothing, making Napoleon roll his eyes.

         “ _“Wow, Solo, you’re the greatest lawyer in the world.  How can we ever thank you?”_ Fellas, you hear what I just said, you’re going home in six months” he exclaimed.

         “I’m afraid we can’t do that, sir” Deuster stated finally.  Napoleon frowned.

         “Do what?” he asked.

         “Make a deal, sir” Deuster answered.

         “What are you talking about?!” Napoleon exclaimed.

         “We did nothing wrong, sir.  If that has consequences, then I accept them.  But I won’t say I’m guilty, sir” Deuster explained.  Napoleon couldn’t believe what he was hearing.  He then looked over at Illya.

         “Did you—” he started before he looked back at Deuster and Stark.

         “Did he put you up to this?” he shouted.  Illya shook his head.

         “нет” he simply answered.

         “We have a code, sir” Deuster stated.  Napoleon growled and rolled his eyes.

         “Well zippity-fucking-doo-dah.  You and your code plead “Not Guilty” and you’ll be in jail for the rest of your life.  Do what I’m telling you and you’ll be home in six months” he snapped.  Deuster just stared at him.

         “Do it Julian.  Six months.  It’s nothing.  It’s a hockey season” Napoleon reasoned.

         “Permission to—” Deuster started.

         “Speak!” Napoleon roared.

         “What do we do then, sir?” Deuster asked.  Napoleon blinked.

         “When?” he asked.

         “After six months.  We’d be dishonorably discharged, right sir?” Deuster asked.  Napoleon nodded.

         “Yes” he replied.

         “What do we do then, sir?  We joined the Corps ‘cause we wanted to live our lives by a certain code.  And we found it the Corps.  And now you’re asking us to sign a piece of paper that says we have no honor.  You’re asking us to say we’re not marines.  If a judge and jury decide that what we did was wrong, I’ll accept whatever punishment they give.  But I believe I was right, sir.  I believe I did my job.  And I won’t dishonor myself, my unit, or the Corps, so that I can go home in six months” Deuster explained.  Napoleon was silent for a moment before he turned to Illya.

         “Командир, я хочу поговорить с Капралом Деустером один на минуту” he asked quietly in Russian.  Illya nodded before he looked up at Stark.

         “Let us go to another room.  Peter, everything is going to be alright” he assured.  Just then, the M.P. showed up and unlocked the cell door.

         “We are going to go to holding room” Illya commanded.  The M.P. nodded.

         “Aye-aye, sir” they replied.  Illya, Stark, and the M.P. then left, leaving Deuster and Napoleon alone in the room. 

         “You don’t like me that much, do you?” Napoleon asked, looking at Deuster.  He then paused and shook his head.

         “Forget it, don’t answer that, it doesn’t matter” he grumbled.  He then paced for a moment before he sat down on the cot.

         “You know, Stark worships you.  He’s gonna do whatever you do.  Are you really gonna let this happen to him because of a code?  Julian?” he spat.

         “Do you think we were right?” Deuster asked finally.  Napoleon shook his head angrily.

         “It doesn’t matter what I—” he started.

         “Do you think we were right?” Deuster repeated, looking at Napoleon.  Napoleon stood up.

         “I think you’d lose” he replied.

         “You’re such a coward, I can’t believe they let you wear a uniform” Deuster sneered.  Napoleon stared at him, blue eyes sharpening with anger.

         “I’m not gonna feel responsible for this, Julian.  I did everything I could.  You’re going to Leavenworth for the better part of your life, and you know what?  I don’t give a shit” he snarled before he turned.

         “M.P.!” he shouted.  He then turned back to Deuster and they were staring each other down until the M.P. showed up and unlocked the cell door.  As Napoleon stepped out to leave, he paused.

         “What happened to saluting an office when he leaves the room?” he asked quietly.  Deuster stared at him for a moment before he, a man who would rather die than breach military protocol, took his hands and put them in his pockets.  Napoleon tsked and walked out, not even looking back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys are enjoying this story! Please continue to leave comments, kudos, bookmark, and subscribe! If you wish to talk fanfiction, ask me questions, or just feel like following me, hit me up on my tumblr: https://the-sassiest-trixster.tumblr.com/


	13. Chapter 13

After Napoleon spoke to Deuster alone, he walked down the office corridor, soon joined by Gaby and Illya.

            “Deuster’s gonna go to jail just to spite me.  Fine.  If he wants to jump off a cliff, that’s his business.  I’m not gonna hold his hand on the way down” he spat before he turned to Gaby.

            “I want to get him a new lawyer.  How do I do it?” he asked.  Gaby shrugged.

            “You just make a motion tomorrow morning at the arraignment.  The judge’ll ask you if you want to enter a plea.  You tell him you want new counsel assigned” she explained.  Napoleon paused.

            “Then that’s that” he declared.  Illya crossed his arms.

            “Yeah.  One thing, though.  When you ask judge for new counsel, Cowboy, be sure and ask nicely” he advised.  Napoleon groaned.

            “What do you want from me?” he asked.  Illya uncrossed his arms.

            “I want you to let them be judged!  I want you to stand up and make argument!” he exclaimed.  Gaby scoffed.

            “An argument that didn’t work for Calley at My Lai, an argument that didn’t work for the Nazis at Nuremberg” she muttered.   Napoleon rolled his eyes.

            “For Christ sake, Gaby, do you really think that’s the same as two teenage marines executing a routine order that they never believed would result in harm?  These guys aren’t the Nazis” he snapped, glaring at her.  There was a pause in the room before Illya smiled.

            “Don’t look now, Cowboy, but you are making argument” he stated.  Napoleon sighed.

            “Yeah” he murmured before he paused.

            “Tomorrow morning, I’ll get them a new attorney” he declared.  Illya crossed his arms again and raised an eyebrow.

            “Why are you so afraid to be lawyer?  Were daddy’s expectations really that high?” he sneered.  Napoleon glared at him.

            “Please, spare me the psycho-babble father bullshit.  Deuster and Stark’ll have their day in court, but they’ll have it with another lawyer” he growled.  Illya shook his head.

            “Another lawyer will not be good enough.  They need you.  You know how to win” he exclaimed before he paused.

            “You know they have case.  And you know how to win.  You walk away from this now, you have sealed their fate” he stated.  Napoleon shook his head.

            “Their fate was sealed the moment Ananasso died” he replied.  Illya raised an eyebrow.

            “Do you believe they have defense?” he asked.  Napoleon scoffed and shook his head again.

            “You and Deuster both live in the same dreamland.  It doesn’t matter what I believe, it only matters what I can prove.  So please, don’t tell me what I know and don’t know.  I know the law” he spat.  Illya looked at him, shook his head, then turned to walk away when he stopped and looked back.

            “You know nothing about law.  You are used car salesman, Napoleon Solo.  You are ambulance chaser with rank.  You are nothing” he snarled before he narrowed his eyes.

            “жить с этим” he spat as he walked off, leaving Napoleon and Gaby alone.  Gaby said nothing as she followed after Illya, leaving Napoleon alone in the corridor.  He then sighed and ran his fingers through his hair.  He was **not** having a good night.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

Later on that evening, at a Georgetown bar, Napoleon sat, a tumbler of scotch in his hand.  The place was crowded with Yuppies and students, much to his annoyance.  As he sat and drank, next to him a Yuppie lawyer was regaling his friends with the story of his latest brilliant maneuver in the world of high stakes corporate law.

            “...So I told Duncan if we leverage the acquisition of Biotech, the interrogatories would be there on demand.  All I have to do is not pick up the phone and it'll run Flaherty ten thousand a day in court costs” he explained with a cocky grin.  Napoleon listened to the story for a little while longer before he got up in disgust, shaking his head.  He then walked outside and sat down on a nearby park bench, pulling a small silver flask from his jacket pocket before taking a swig.  Tonight was just not his night.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

The next day in the courtroom, Deuster and Stark were sitting in the defendant’s box and Adam James was at the prosecutor’s table when Napoleon walked in, joining Illya and Gaby at the defense table.  They waited for a little while when finally the door in the back of the courtroom and Judge Julius Alexander Randolph, a marine colonel, entered and took his place at the bench.  In the background, everyone could hear the band playing for a group of day campers.

            “All rise” the Sergeant at Arms ordered, making everyone present in the courtroom stand.

            “Where are we?” Randolph asked.

            “Docket number 411275.  VR-5.  United States vs. Lance Corporal Julian Michael Deuster and Private First Class Peter Stark.  Defendants are charged with Conspiracy to Commit Murder, Murder in the First Degree, and Conduct Unbecoming a United States Marine” the Sergeant at Arms read aloud.

            “Does defense wish to enter a plea?” Randolph asked.  Napoleon quickly stood.

            “Yes” he replied before he paused.

            “They’re not guilty” he replied.  Illya, Gaby, Randolph…it was hard to say who was the most surprised and it took everything Illya had within him to suppress a rare smile.  The silence was soon broken by Adam James, who took two files, dropped them into his briefcase, closed the lid, and snapped it shut.  Randolph looked between Napoleon and James before he turned to the Sergeant at Arms.

            “Enter a plea of “not guilty” for the defendants.  We’ll adjourn until ten-hundred, three weeks from today, at which this time this court will reconvene as a General Court-Martial” he ordered before he slammed his gavel down and walked out.  James then walked up the aisle without a word to anyone while the M.P.’s escorted Deuster and Stark back to their cell, leaving Napoleon, Illya, and Gaby alone in the room.  Gaby then looked over at Napoleon with questions in her eyes.

            “Why does a junior grade with six months’ experience and a track record for plea bargaining get assigned a murder case?” Napoleon asked before pausing.

            “Would it be so that it never sees the inside of a courtroom?” he continued before he picked up his briefcase and began to head towards the door.

            “We’ll work out of my apartment.  Every night, seven o’clock.  Peril, before you come over tonight, pick up a carton of legal pads, a half-dozen boxes of red pens, and a half-dozen boxes of black pens.  Gaby: get a couple of desk lamps.  I need you to start on a preliminary medical profile and Peril, we need all the fitness reports on Deuster, Stark, and Ananasso.  The only thing I have to eat is Yoo-Hoos and SugarSnacks, so if you want anything else, bring it with you.  Okay?” he asked.  Illya blinked, still stunned from what happened.

            “Да” he answered finally.  Napoleon then walked towards the door, stopped, and turned around, taking it all in for a moment.

            “So this is what a courtroom looks like” he muttered wistfully before he walked out the door, a small smile on his face.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

That night, at Napoleon’s apartment, a blackboard was hung up on the wall with three headings written across the top.

 

**INTENT                       CODE RED                 THE ORDER**

Meanwhile, on the floor, Gaby was sorting papers into piles as Napoleon exited the kitchen with a fresh bottle of Yoo-Hoo.  He then joined her on the floor.

            “Were you able to speak to your friend at NIS?” he asked.

            “She said that if Vinciguerra doesn’t want to be found, we’re not gonna find him.  She said I could be Vinciguerra and you wouldn’t know it” Gaby answered.  Napoleon raised an eyebrow.

            “Are you Vinciguerra?” he asked.  Gaby smirked.

            “No” she answered.

            “Well, I’m not Vinciguerra, so that’s two down” Napoleon stated with a smile.  Gaby, however, didn’t laugh.

            “What?” Napoleon asked, frowning.  Gaby frowned as well.

            “I was wondering…now that Illya’s working on this…I was wondering if you still need me” she murmured.  Napoleon paused and blinked.

            “They were following an order, Gaby” he stated.

            “An illegal order” Gaby reminded.

            “You think Deuster and Stark know it’s an illegal order?” Napoleon asked.  Gaby shook her head.

            “It doesn’t matter if they know, any decent human being would’ve refused to—” she started.

            “They’re not permitted to question orders” Napoleon interjected.  Gaby huffed in annoyance.

            “Then what’s the secret?  What are the magic words?  I give orders every day and nobody follows them” she grumbled.

            “We have softball games and marching bands.  They work at a place where you have to wear camouflage or you might get shot” Napoleon reminded.  Gaby tsked and looked away.  She didn’t buy it.

            “Gabs, come on.  I need you.  You’re better at research than I am and you know how to prepare a witness” Napoleon added softly just as Illya let himself in.  He was carrying a huge stack of papers under one arm and a large brown paper bag under the other.

            “I got medical reports and Chinese food.  I say we eat first” he advised.  Napoleon continued to look at Gaby, who nodded her head.

            “Fine” she agreed before she looked up at the Russian with a soft smile.

            “Did you get any dumplings?” she asked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys are enjoying this story! Please continue to leave comments, kudos, bookmark, and subscribe! If you wish to talk fanfiction, ask me questions, or just feel like following me, hit me up on my tumblr: https://the-sassiest-trixster.tumblr.com/


	14. Chapter 14

Later on that night, the remnants of the Chinese food were spread around as Gaby and Illya were sitting and taking notes from Napoleon, who was slowly pacing around with his baseball bat in his hand.

         “This is our defense.  Intent: No one can prove there was poison on the rag.  Code Red: They’re common and accepted in Guantanamo Bay.  The Order:” he started as he began to write.

         “A) Debicki gave it.  B) They had no choice but to follow it” he continued before he paused.

         “That’s it” he finished. 

         “What about motive?” Gaby asked.

         “We’re a little weak on motive.  They had one” Napoleon admitted.

         “Just because person has motive does not mean—” Illya started when Napoleon held up a hand.

         “Relax.  We’ll deal with the fence line shooting when it comes up.  For now, we start here” he stated, pointing to “Intent”. 

         “I don’t know what made Ananasso die, I don’t want to know.  I just want to be able to show it could’ve been something other than poison.  Peril, talk to doctors.  Find out everything there is to know about lactic acidosis.  Let’s start prepping for Stone” he ordered.

         “As long as we are on subject of the doctor—” Illya started, making Napoleon roll his eyes.

         “Here we go” he grumbled.  Illya held up a hand.

         “Listen to me, at three o’clock he does not know what killed Ananasso, then he meets with Sanders and at five o’clock he says it was poison?  The doctor’s covering up the truth” he growled.  Napoleon sighed happily.

         “Oh, that’s a relief.  I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to use the “Liar, Liar, Pants of Fire” defense.  We can’t prove coercion!” he exclaimed before he sighed.

         “Alright, fitness reports and biographical information” he ordered.

         “Cartons 3 and 4” Gaby replied.  Napoleon looked towards the cartons and the mind-numbing amounts of paper and groaned.

         “No Spark Notes on these things?” he grumbled.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

Over the next three weeks, Illya, Napoleon, and Gaby were preparing for the trial in Napoleon’s apartment, causing it to get messier and messier each day.  They flipped through documents and reference books, wrote on the blackboard, dozed off…all good things when preparing for a trial.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

In Napoleon’s apartment, Illya was on the phone while Napoleon and Gaby were going over witness testimony, with Gaby sitting in a mock witness chair. 

         “Captain Hill, this is Lieutenant Commander Kuryakin, I am internal affairs officer with JAG Corps in Washington, D.C.  I am trying to track down Captain Alexander Vinciguerra, USMC…” Illya stated in his thick Russian accent. 

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

While he was on the phone, Napoleon and Gaby were practicing for the trial.

         “Doctor, other than the rope marks, was there any other sign of external damage?” Napoleon asked.

         “No” Gaby answered.

         “No scrapes?” Napoleon asked.

         “No” Gaby replied.

         “No cuts?” Napoleon questioned.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

         “He resigned his commission a week ago, Thursday” Illya explained into the phone.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

         “Bruises?  Broken bones?” Napoleon inquired.

         “No” Gaby answered.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

         “No, do not put me on hold—” Illya growled.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

         “Doctor, was there any sign of violence? Napoleon asked.

         “You mean other than the dead body?” Gaby retorted.  Napoleon growled and ran his fingers through his neatly styled hair.

         “Fuck!  I walk into that every goddamn time” he snarled.  Gaby shook her head.

         “Word of advice: don’t ask that last question” she advised.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

After deciding that they needed to get out of the apartment, Illya, Napoleon, and Gaby headed to the law library to work there.  While Napoleon and Gaby were working on other pieces of their case, Illya walked over to a shelf full of books and pulled out two thick volumes, taking them over to the table where Gaby and Napoleon were working.  He then plopped them down, adding them to a pile of two-dozen books that looked exactly like them. 

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

The next day, at a coffee shop, the three lawyers had their books and papers spread out in front of them.

         “Lieutenant Debicki, the type of disciplinary action, or “training” as you say—” Napoleon started.

         “Object” Illya interrupted.

         “Please the Court, I maintain that nothing could be more relevant than what the defendants learned by the example of, among others, the witness” Napoleon countered.  Illya smiled a rare smile and nodded.

         “Well done” he praised.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

After practicing in the coffee shop, Napoleon, Gaby, and Illya headed to the brig, where Deuster and Stark were put through their paces in the holding room.

         “And what happened after Lieutenant Debicki came into room?” Illya inquired.

         “She ordered me and Corporal Deuster to give Alessandro a Code Red” Stark answered.  Gaby then looked over at Illya.

         “His answers still have to come faster, Illya.  The Iowa farmboy thing’ll play for a while, but in the end, it looks like he’s searching for the truth” she stated.  Napoleon then turned to look at Deuster and Stark.

         “She right.  And from now on, “Alessandro” is Private Ananasso.  You start calling him Alessandro and all of a sudden he’s a person who’s got a mother who’s gonna miss him” he stated.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

Back in Napoleon’s apartment, Napoleon, dressed in sweatpants and a bathrobe, was pacing around slowly with his baseball bat in his hand, lecturing Illya and Gaby for the fourteenth time.

         “Poker faces.  Don’t flinch in front of the jury.  Something doesn’t go our way, don’t hang your head, don’t shift in your seat, don’t scribble furiously.  Whatever happens, you have to look like it’s exactly what you knew was going to happen.  When you pass me documents—” he started.

         “Do it swiftly, but don’t look overanxious” Gaby and Illya answered at the same time.  Napoleon then looked at Illya.

         “И не пользуйся этим одеколоном в суде, это разрушит мою концентрацию” he ordered in Russian.  Illya’s eyes widened.

         “Правда!” he exclaimed.  Napoleon rolled his eyes.

         “I was talking to Gaby” he teased.

         “What time is it?” Gaby asked.  Napoleon sighed.

         “Time to go home.  Try to get some sleep tonight” he suggested.

         “I can give you ride” Illya offered, looking over at Gaby, who nodded and began to gather up her things.  She then stood in front of Napoleon, who smiled.

         “You’re a good man, Charlie Brown” he teased.  Gaby rolled her eyes.

         “I’m more of a Lucy then Charlie.  But see you in court” she replied with a smile before she stepped out the door.  After she had left, Illya looked at the ground before looking at Napoleon.

         “Cowboy—” he started.  Napoleon held up a hand.

         “I know what you’re going to say.  You don’t have to.  We’ve had our differences.  I’ve said some things I didn’t mean; you’ve said some things you didn’t mean but you’re happy that I stuck with the case.  And if you’ve gained a certain respect for me over the last three weeks that you didn’t have before, well, of course I’m happy about that, but we don’t have to make a whole big deal out of it.  You like me.  I won’t make you say it” he assured softly.  Illya raised an eyebrow before he smiled his rare smile and shook his head.

         “I was going to tell you to wear matching socks tomorrow” he stated softly.  Napoleon blinked.

         “Oh” he muttered before he chuckled.

         “Okay.  Good tip” he agreed, making Illya smirk.

         “We are ready” he declared proudly.  Napoleon smirked as well.

         “Bet your ass” he agreed.  Illya smiled one last rare smile before he clapped Napoleon on the shoulder and walked out the door.  Napoleon then closed the door and locked it behind him before leaning his head against it and sighing.

         “We’re gonna get creamed” he whimpered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys are enjoying this story! Please continue to leave comments, kudos, bookmark, and subscribe!
> 
>  
> 
> И не пользуйся этим одеколоном в суде, это разрушит мою концентрацию - And don't wear that Cologne in court, it'll ruin my concentration.  
> Правда - seriously


	15. Chapter 15

The next day, in the Courthouse corridor, a few M.P.Is were standing by the entrance as Napoleon came around the corner and headed towards the courtroom.  As he passed by a mirror that was hanging in the corridor, he was suddenly stricken by something: in his dress blue uniform, he could have easily been mistaken for a real naval officer.  He then shook his head and opened the courtroom doors, walking inside.  Inside, the jurors, nine enlisted navy and marine men and women, were in their place, Adam James was at the prosecutor’s table, looking through some papers, and Deuster and Stark, in handcuffs, were seated in the defendant’s box.  As Napoleon walked down the aisle, he was quickly stopped by a voice behind him.

         “Lieutenant Solo?” a man’s voice called out.  Napoleon stopped and turned to see a man and woman, who were clearly Deuster’s parents.

         “You’re gonna save our son, aren’t you?” the man asked.  Napoleon paused.

         “I’ll do my best” he replied before he continued on, stopping next to Illya, who was talking to a woman in her mid-thirties.

         “Cowboy, I want you to meet Ginny Miller, Peter’s aunt” Illya introduced.  Napoleon raised an eyebrow.

         “You’re Aunt Ginny?” he asked.

         “Uh-huh” the woman answered.  Napoleon then shook his head.

         “I’m sorry, I was expecting someone older” he explained.  Ginny crossed her arms.

         “So was I” she replied.  Not quite the words of inspiration Napoleon was hoping to hear before he did the hardest thing he had ever had to do, so he decided to leave and walk over to James.

         “Last chance.  I’ll flip you for it” he offered, just as Judge Randolph entered.

         “All rise” the Sergeant at Arms called out.  James looked over at him and shook his head.

         “Too late” he stated.  Napoleon sighed as he walked over to his table while the Sergeant at Arms began to speak.

         “All those having business with this general court-martial, stand forward and you shall be heard.  Colonel Julius Alexander Randolph is presiding.  God save the United States of America” he stated as Randolph rapped his gavel.

         “Without objection, the sworn confessions of the two defendants have been read to the jury and entered into the court record” he stated.

         “No objection” James answered.

         “No objection” Napoleon echoed.

         “Is the Government prepared to make an opening statement?” Randolph asked, looking at James.

         “Yes sir” James answered as he stood and walked over to the jury box.

         “The facts of the case are this: At midnight on August 6th, the defendants went into the barracks room of their platoon-mate, PFC Alessandro Ananasso.  They woke him up, tied his arms and legs with rope, and forced a rag into his throat.  A few minutes later, a chemical reaction in Ananasso's body called lactic acidosis caused his lungs to begin bleeding.  He drowned in his own blood and was pronounced dead at 32 minutes past midnight.  These are the facts of the case.  And they are undisputed.  That's right.  The story I just told you is the exact same story you're going to hear from Corporal Deuster and it's the exact same story you're going to hear from Private Stark.  Furthermore, the Government will also demonstrate that the defendants soaked the rag with poison, and entered Ananasso's room with motive and intent to kill” he stated before he paused.

         “Now, Lieutenant Solo is gonna try to pull off a little magic act; he's gonna try a little misdirection.  He's going to astonish you with stories of rituals and dazzle you with official sounding terms like Code Red.  He might even cut into a few officers for you.  He'll have no evidence, mind you, none.  But it's gonna be entertaining.  When we get to the end, all the magic in the world will not have been able to divert your attention from the fact that Alessandro Ananasso is dead, and Deuster and Stark killed him.   These are the facts of the case.  And they are undisputed” he finished before he turned and walked back to his seat.

         “Lieutenant Solo?” Randolph asked.

         “There was no poison on the rag and there was no intent to kill and any attempt to prove otherwise is futile because it just ain't true” Napoleon argued before he even stood up.  He then took a deep breath.

         “When Deuster and Stark went into Ananasso’s room that night, it wasn't because of vengeance or hatred, it wasn't to kill or harm, and it wasn't because they were looking for kicks on a Friday night.  It's because it was what they were ordered to do” he stated as he walked around his table to address the jury.

         “Let me say that again: It's because it was what they were ordered to do.  Now, out in the real world, that means nothing.  And here at the Washington Navy Yard, it doesn't mean a whole lot more.  But if you're a marine assigned to Rifle Security Company Windward, Guantanamo Bay, Cuba, and you're given an order, you follow it or you pack your bags” he continued.

         “Make no mistake about it, Julian Deuster and Peter Stark are sitting before you in judgment today because they did their job” he finished before he walked back to his table and sat down.

         “Is the Government ready to call their first witness?” Randolph asked.  James nodded.

         “Please the Court, the Government calls Mr. R.C McGuire” he replied.  While McGuire, a civilian in his late thirties, was being sworn in, Napoleon looked over at Deuster.

         “How you doin’?” he asked.  Deuster didn’t change his expression, making Napoleon nod.

         “Good” he stated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys are enjoying this story! Please continue to leave comments, kudos, bookmark, and subscribe!


	16. Chapter 16

         “Mr. McGuire, would you state your full name and occupation for the record, please?” James asked.

         “Robert C. McGuire, Special Agent, Naval Investigative Service” the man answered.

         “Mr. McGuire, did your office receive a letter from PFC Alessandro Ananasso on August 3rd of this year?” James asked.  McGuire nodded.

         “We did” he replied.

         ‘What did the letter say?” James asked.

         “That a member of Private Ananasso’s unit had illegally fired his weapon over the fence line” McGuire answered.

         “Was that marine identified in the letter?” James inquired.

         “No sir.  I notified the barracks C.O, Colonel Sanders, that I would be coming down to investigate” McGuire replied.

         “And what did you find?” James asked.

         “For the shift reported, only one sentry returned his weapon to the switch with a round of ammunition missing” McGuire answered.  James raised an eyebrow.

         “And who was that?” he asked.

         “Lance Corporal Julian Deuster” McGuire replied.  James then looked over at Napoleon.

         “Your witness” he sneered before he walked back to his table as Napoleon stood.

         “Mr. McGuire, have you question Corporal Deuster about the fence line shooting?” he asked.  McGuire nodded.

         “Yes.  He claims to have been engaged in some manner by the enemy” he answered.  Napoleon crossed his arms.

         “But you don’t believe him” he stated.  McGuire gulped.

         “It’s not my place—” he started.

         “Corporal Deuster’s been charged with a number of crimes, why wasn’t he charged with firing at the enemy without cause?” Napoleon asked, raising an eyebrow.  McGuire sighed.

         “There wasn’t enough to support such a charge” he answered.  Napoleon smirked.

         “Thank you” he thanked before he sat down again.

         “Mr. McGuire, I don’t understand what you mean when you say there wasn’t enough evidence to support such a charge.  You had Alessandro Ananasso’s letter” James stated as he stood.  McGuire shook his head.

         “Ananasso was the only witness, but I never had a chance to interview him.  So I don’t know what he saw” he replied.  James frowned.

         “And now we won’t ever know, will we Mr. McGuire?” he asked.  McGuire shook his head again.

         “No” he answered.  James then crossed his arms.

         “No more questions” he stated.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

After Mr. McGuire stepped off the witness stand, a young marine corporal by the name of Carl Hanmaker was being sworn in.

         “Corporal Carl Edward Hanmaker, Marine Barracks, Rifle Security Company Windward, Second Platoon Charlie” the man introduced.

         “Corporal, were you present at a meeting that Lieutenant Debicki held on the afternoon on August 6th with the members of second platoon?” James questioned.

         “Yes sir” Hanmaker answered.

         “Would you tell the court the substance of the meeting?” James asked.

         “Lieutenant Debicki told us that we had an informer in our group.  That Private Ananasso had gone outside the chain of command and reported to the NIS on a member of our platoon” Hanmaker answered.

         “Did that make you mad?” James asked before his face softened.

         “You can tell the truth, corporal, it’s alright.  Did it make you mad?” he asked again.  Hanmaker nodded.

         “Yes sir” he answered.

         “How mad?” James asked.

         “Private Ananasso betrayed a code that we believe in very deeply, sir” Hanmaker answered.

         “Were the other members of the squad angry?” James inquired.

         “Object—” Napoleon started.

         “Were Deuster and Stark?” James continued.

         “Please the court, is the judge advocate honestly asking this witness to testify as to how the defendant felt on August 6th?” Napoleon demanded.

         “Sustained” Randolph answered.

         “Corporal, did Lieutenant Debicki leave a standing order at that meeting?” James asked.

         “Yes sir” Hanmaker replied.

         “What was it?” James asked.

         “Well, it was clear that she didn’t want us to take matters into our own hands sir” Hanmaker answered.

         “What was the order?” James snapped.

         “Sir, she said that Ananasso wasn’t to be touched” Hanmaker answered.

         “Your witness” James stated to Napoleon.

         “Corporal Hanmaker, were you in Deuster and Stark’s barracks room ten minutes after this meeting?” Napoleon asked.  Hanmaker shook his head.

         “No sir” he replied.  Napoleon nodded.

         “Thank you.  No more questions” he stated.  Hanmaker then got off the stand and Napoleon watched as he walked past Deuster and Stark, a barely perceptible exchange occurring between the eyes of Deuster and Hanmaker.  He then made a decision.

         “The Government calls Corporal Raymond Thomas—” James started.

         “Please the court, I understand Lieutenant James is planning on calling all the other members of Rifle Security Company Winward to testify” Napoleon interjected.

         “In light of the defense that Lieutenant Solo is planning to mount, the explicit instructions of the platoon leader seem particularly relevant testimony” James snapped.

         “The defense is willing to concede that all 23 witnesses will testify substantially as Corporal Hanmaker did, if the Government is willing to concede that none of them were in Deuster and Stark’s room at 16:20 on August 6th” Napoleon bargained.

         “Lieutenant?” Randolph asked, looking over at James.

         “The Government’ll agree to the stipulation, sir” James replied with a sigh.

         “Then we’ll adjourn for the day.  You can call your next witness in the morning” Randolph instructed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys are enjoying this story! Please continue to leave comments, kudos, bookmark, and subscribe!


	17. Chapter 17

The next morning in the courtroom, Commander Stone, a Navy doctor in his mid-forties, was on the stand.

         “…And he was pronounced dead at 00:37” Stone stated.

         “Dr. Stone, what’s lactic acidosis?” James asked.

         “If the muscles and other cells of the body burn sugar instead of oxygen, lactic acid is produced.  That lactic acid is what caused Ananasso’s lungs to bleed” Stone explained.

         “How long does it take for the muscles and other cells to begin burning oxygen instead of sugar?” James asked.

         “Twenty to thirty minutes” Stone replied.

         “And what caused Ananasso’s muscles and other cells to start burning sugar?” James asked.

         “An ingested poison of some kind” Stone answered.

         “Your Honor, we object at this point.  The witness is speculating” Napoleon interjected, standing to his feet.

         “Commander Stone is an expert medical witness; in this courtroom his opinion isn’t considered speculation” James snapped.

         “Commander Stone is an internalist, not a criminalist, and the medical facts here are ultimately inconclusive” Napoleon argued.

         “A point which I’m confident you’ll illustrate to the jury under cross-examination, so I’m sure you won’t mind if his opinion is admitted now” Randolph interjected calmly.  Napoleon shook his head.

         “Not at all sir.  Objection withdrawn” he stated before he sat down.

         “Dr. Stone, did Alessandro Ananasso die of poisoning?” James asked.

         “Absolutely” Stone replied.

         “Are you aware that the lab report and the cororner’s report showed no traces poison?” James asked, raising an eyebrow.  Stone nodded.

         “Yes I am” he replied.

         “Then how do you justify—” James started.

         “There are litteraly dozens of toxins which are virtually undetectable, both in the human body and on a fabric.  The nature of the acidosis is the compelling factor in this issue” Stone spat.

         “Thank you sir” James thanked before he sat down, Napoleon standing up in his place.

         “Commander, you testified that it takes lactic acidosis 20 to 30 minutes before it becomes lethal” he stated.

         “Yes” Stone replied with a nod.  Napoleon crossed his arms.

         “Let me ask you, is it possible for a person to have an affliction, some sort of condition, which might, in the case of this person, actually speed up the process of acidosis dramatically?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.  Stone was silent for a moment.

         “Commander, is it possible?” Napoleon pressed.  Stone sighed.

         “Certainly” he replied.

         “What might some of those conditions be?” Napoleon inquired.

         “If a person had a coronary disorder…or a cerebral disorder, the process would be more rapid” Stone explained.

         “Commander, if I had a coronary condition and a perfectly clean rag was placed in my mouth and the rag was accidentally pushed down too far, is it possible that my cells would continue burning sugar after the rag was taken out?” Napoleon asked.

         “It would have to be a very serious condition” Stone stated.

         “Is is possible to have a serious coronary condition, where the intial warning signals were so mild as to escape a physician during a routine medical exam?” Napoleon asked.

         “Possibly.  There would still be symptoms though?” Stone explained.

         “What kind of symptoms?” Napoleon asked.

         “There are hundreds of symptoms of a –” Stone started.

         “Chest pains?” Napoleon interjected.

         “Yes” Stone answered.

         “Shortness of breath?” Napoleon inquired.

         “Yes” Stone grumbled.

         “Fatigue?” Napoleon questioned.

         “Of course” Stone replied.  Napoleon hummed before he walked back to his table and grabbed some documents from Illya.  He then walked back over to Dr. Stone and showed them to him.

         “Is this your signature?” he asked.  Stone nodded.

         “Yes, it is” he replied.

         “This is an order for Private Ananasso to be put on restricted duty.  Would you read your hand written at the bottom of the page, please sir?” Napoleon instructed.

         _“Initial testing negative.  Patient complains of chest pains, shortness of breath, and fatigue.  Restricted from running distances over five miles for one week”_ Stone read aloud.

         “Commander, isn’t it possible that Ananasso had a serious coronary condition and it was that condition, and not some mysterious poison, that caused the accelerated chemical reaction?” Napoleon asked.

         “No.  I personally gave the men a physical examination every three months.  And every three months Private Ananasso got a clean bill of health” Stone snapped.

         “And that’s why it had to be poison, right, Commander?  Cause Lord knows, if you put a man with a serious coronary condition back on duty with a clean bill of health and that man died from a heart related incident, you’d have a lot to answer for, wouldn’t you, Doctor?” Napoleon sneered.

         “Object.  Move to strike” James asked.  Randolph nodded.

         “Sustained.  Strike it” he replied.

         “No more questions, judge” Napoleon stated as he sat back down.  James stood immediately.

         “Dr. Stone, you’ve held a license to practice medicine for 21 years, you are Board Certified in Internal Medicine, you are the Chief of Internal Medicine at a hospital which serves over 8000 men.  In your professional opinion, was Alessandro Ananasso poisoned?” he asked, making Illya immediately stand.

         “Your Honor, we re-new our objection to Commander Stone’s testimony and ask that it be stricken from the record.  And we further ask that the court instruct the jury to lend no weight to this witness’s testimony” he asked, looking at Randolph with piercing blue eyes.  At this statement, Napoleon and Gaby wanted to die, but they had to keep their poker-faces.

         “The objection’s overruled, counsel” Randolph stated, trying to make himself very clear.  Illya shook his head.

         “Sir, the defense strenuously objects and requests meeting in chambers so that his honor might have opportunity to hear discussion before ruling an objection” he argued.

         “The objection of the defense has been heard and overruled” Randolph snapped.

         “Exception” Illya growled.

         “Noted.  The witness is an expert and the court will hear his opinion” Randolph countered. 

         “Doctor, in your expert, professional, opinion, was Alessandro Ananasso poisoned?” James asked.  Stone nodded.

         “Yes” he answered.

         “Thank you sir, I have no more questions” James replied.

         “Commander, you may step down” Randolph stated to Stone. 

         “Please the Court, while we reseve the right to call rebuttal witnesses if the need arises, the Government rests” James stated.

         “We’ll stand in recess until ten-hundreds hours this Monday, the 19th at which time the defense will call its first witness” he declared as he rapped his gavel.

         “Ten hut” the Sergeant at Arms called out, causing the courtroom to clear as Napoleon, Illya, and Gaby packed up their various papers.

         “ _“I strenuously object?”_ Is that how it works?  Objection.  Overruled.  No, no, no, no, I _strenuously_ object.  Oh, well if you _strenuously object,_ let me take a moment to reconsider” Gaby growled.

         “I got it on record” Illya argued.

         “You also got it in the jury’s head that we’re afraid of the doctor.  You object once so they can hear you say he’s not a criminologist.  You keep after it and it looks like this great cross we did was just a bunch of fancy lawyer tricks.  It’s the difference between paper law and trial—” Gaby continued.

         “Gaby—” Napoleon warned softly.

         “Christ, you even had the judge saying Stone was an expert!” Gaby shouted.

         “Gaby, he made a mistake.  Let’s not relive it” Napoleon snapped, glaring at her.

         “I’m gonna go call my husband.  I’ll meet you tonight” Gaby spat, turning to leave when Illya turned as well.

         “Why do you hate them so much?” he demanded, accent thickening with anger.  Gaby stopped and turned.

         “They beat up on a weakling and that’s all they did.  The rest is just smoke filled coffee-house crap.  They tortured and tormented a weaker kid.  They didn’t like him.  And they killed him.  And why?  Because he couldn’t run very fast” she spat.  After that, there was a long silence before Napoleon sighed.

         “Alright, everyone take the night off” he ordered.  Gaby and Illya paused before Gaby sighed.

         “I apologize, I—” she started when Napoleon held up his hand for silence.

         “It’s alright.  We’ve been working 20 hours a day for three and a half weeks straight.  Take the night off.  Go see your husband, see your daughter.  Peril, do whatever it is you do when you’re not here.  What day is tomorrow?” he asked.

         “Saturday” Gaby answered.

         “We’ll start at then” Napoleon instructed before he picked up his stuff and left.  Once he was gone, Illya and Gaby stood there for a moment before Illya began to pack up his things.

         “Why do you like them so much?” Gaby asked, genuinely curious.  Illya looked up at her and blinked before he sighed.

         “Because they stand on wall.  And they say _“Nothing is going to hurt you tonight.  Not on my watch”_ ” he answered.  Gaby blinked at the honestly of his answer and despite their differences, she really liked this tall Russian bear.

         “Don’t worry about the doctor.  This trial starts Monday” she stated with a soft, forgiving smile before she turned and left.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

That night, Napoleon was slowly pacing around his apartment, baseball bat in his hand as a baseball game was going on in the background.  He then looked at the blackboard, gently tapping the bat on his hand as he studied the board.  Suddenly, there was a knock on his door, breaking his concentration, so he walked over to the door and answered it, finding Illya standing there.

         “Простите за беспокойство, я должен был сначала позвонить” he apologized.  Napoleon shook his head.

         “Нет, я просто смотрел бейсбольный матч” he explained.  Illya nodded before he took a deep breath.

         “I was wondering…how would you feeling about me taking you to dinner tonight?” he asked.  Napoleon raised an eyebrow.

         “Peril, are you asking me out on a date?” he asked, a teasing smile on his lips.  Illya shook his head.

         “Нет” he replied.  Napoleon chuckled.

         “It sounded like you were asking me out on a date” he teased.  Illya narrowed his eyes at him.

         “I wasn’t” he growled softly.  Napoleon smirked.

         “I’ve been asked out on dates before and that’s what it sounded like” he stated.  Illya groaned and rolled his eyes.

         “Do you like seafood?  I know good seafood place” he stated.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

On the Virginia side of the Potomac, Napoleon and Illya were sitting at a table, finishing up dinner.

         “My third case was Drunk and Disorderly.  The trial lasted nine weeks.  I rounded up thirty-one people who were in bar that night” Illya explained.  Napoleon raised an eyebrow.

         “Nine weeks on a D and D?  What was the prosecutor offering?” he asked.

         “15 days” Illya answered.  Napoleon paused.

         “Well, you sure hustled the shit outta him” he stated. 

         “After that, they moved me to internal affairs” Illya stated.  Napoleon shrugged.

         “Tough to blame them” he murmured.

         “Where I have earned two distinguished service medals and two letters of commendation” Illya continued proudly.  Napoleon rolled his eyes.

         “Why are you always giving me your resume?” he asked.  Illya sighed.

         “Because I want you to think I am good lawyer” he confessed.  Napoleon’s face softened at Illya’s confession.

         “I do” he assured.  Illya looked at him and shook his head.

         “No, you don’t” he argued softly, pausing for a moment.

         “I think you are exceptional lawyer.  I watch jurors, they respond to you.  They like you.  I see you convincing them.  I think Deuster and Stark are going to end up owing their lives to you” he continued.  Napoleon sighed.

         “Peril…I think you have to prepare yourself for the fact that we’re gonna lose” he stated before he shook his head.

         “James’ opening speech, it’s all true.  I mean, let’s prepare for a minute that it would actually matter to this jury that the guys were given an order.  We can’t prove it ever happened” he explained as he sighed and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms.

         “We’ll keep doing what we’re doing and we’ll put on a show, but at the end of day, all we have is the testimony of two people accused of murder” he finished.

         “We will find Vinciguerra” Illya assured.  Napoleon looked into his icy blue eyes and smiled sadly.

         “Peril, we’re gonna lose.  And we’re gonna lose huge” he admitted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys are enjoying this story! Please continue to leave comments, kudos, bookmark, and subscribe!
> 
> Простите за беспокойство, я должен был сначала позвонить - Sorry to bother you, I should have called first.  
> Нет, я просто смотрел бейсбольный матч - No, I was just watching a baseball game.


	18. Chapter 18

The next morning at the courthouse, Corporal Howard, the young marine who drove Napoleon, Gaby, and Illya around Cuba, was on the stand.

         “Corporal Jeffery Owen Howard, Marine Barracks Winward, Guantanamo Bay, Cuba” Howard introduced.

         “Corporal Howard, name some reason why a marine would get a Code Red” Napoleon ordered. 

         “Being late for platoon or company meetings, keeping his barracks in disorder, falling back on a run…” Howard rambled.

         “How you ever received a Code Red?” Napoleon asked.  Howard nodded.

         “Yes sir.  We were doing seven-man assault drills and my weapon slipped.  It’s just cuz it was over a hundred degrees and my palms were sweaty and I’d forgot to use the resin like we were taught” he explained. 

         “And what happened?” Napoleon inquired.

         “That night the guys in my squad threw a blanket over me and took turns punching me in the arm for five minutes.  Then they poured glue on my hands.  And it worked too, cuz I ain’t never dropped my weapon since” Howard replied with a soft chuckle.  Napoleon frowned.

         “Was Private Ananasso ever late for platoon meetings?” he asked.  Howard nodded.

         “Yes sir” he replied.

         “Was his barracks ever in disorder?” Napoleon asked.

         “Yes sir” Howard answered.

         “Did he ever fall back on a run?” Napoleon questioned.

         “All the time, sir” Howard replied.  Napoleon narrowed his eyes at the man.

         “Did he ever, prior to the night of August 6th, receive a Cod Red?” he asked.  Howard shook his head.

         “No sir” he replied.  Napoleon frowned and tilted his head.

         “Never?” he asked.  Howard shook his head again.

         “No, sir” he replied.  Napoleon crossed his arms.

         “You got a Code Red because your palms were sweaty.  Why didn’t Ananasso, this burden to his unit, ever get one?” he asked.  Howard sighed.

         “Deuster wouldn’t allow it, sir” he replied.  Napoleon’s eyes lit up.

         “Deuster wouldn’t allow it” he repeated.  Howard nodded.

         “The guys talked tough about Ananasso, but they wouldn’t go near him.  They were too afraid of Deuster, sir” he explained.

         “Object. The witness is characterizing” James exclaimed.  Napoleon quickly held up a hand for silence.

         “I’ll rephrase: Jeffery, did you ever want to give Ananasso a Code Red?” he asked.  Howard nodded.

         “Yes sir” he answered.  Napoleon raised an eyebrow.

         “Why didn’t you?” he asked.

         “Cause Deuster’d kick my butt, sir” Howard explained.  Napoleon nodded.

         “Fair enough.  Lieutenant James is gonna ask you some questions now” he stated, turning back to his table while James stood and grabbed three books out of his briefcase before putting them on the table.  He then grabbed one and brought it over to Howard.

         “Corporal Howard, I hold here _“The Marine Guide and General Information Handbook for New Recruits”_.  Are you familiar with this book?” he asked.  Howard nodded.

         “Yes sir” he replied.

         “Have you read it?” James asked.  Howard nodded.

         “Yes sir” he answered.

         “Good” James stated as he handed him the book.

         “Would you turn to the chapter that deals with Code Reds, please” he asked.  Howard looked up at him in confusion.

         “Sir?” he asked.

         “Just flip to the page in that book that discusses Code Reds” James reiterated.

         “Sir, you see, Code Red is a term we use – it’s just used down at GITMO, sir.  I don’t know if it actually—” Howard started when James produced another book.

         “We’re in luck, then.  _“The Marine Corps Guide for Sentry Duty, NAVY BASE Guantanamo Bay, Cuba”_.  I assume we’ll find the term “Code Red” and its definition in the book, am I right?” he asked. 

         “No sir” Howard answered.  James frowned.

         “No?  Corporal Howard, I’m a marine.  Is there no book, no manual or pamphlet, no set of orders or regulations that let me know that, a marine, one of my duties is to perform Code Reds?” he asked.  Howard paused before he shook his head.

         “No sir.  No books, sir” he answered.  James smirked.

         “No further questions” he declared as he headed back to his table and sat down.  As soon as he sat, Napoleon quickly stood up and walked over to his table and picked up one of the books, bringing it to Howard.

         “Corporal, would you turn to the page in this book that says where the enlisted men’s mess hall is?” he asked.

         “Lieutenant Solo, that’s not in the book, sir” Howard stated.  Napoleon faked surprise. 

         “I don’t understand; how do you know where the enlisted men’s mess hall was if it’s not in this book?” he asked.  Howard shrugged.

         “I guess I just followed the crowd at chow time, sir” he replied.  Napoleon was the one to smirk this time.

         “No more questions” he stated before he chucked the book back onto James’ desk.

         “Corporal Howard, you can step down” Randolph declared.

         “Thank you, sir” Howard thanked, greatly relieved.  As he was walking back to his seat, Napoleon gave him a subtle “You Did Good, Kid” look, making him smile slightly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys are enjoying this story! Please continue to leave comments, kudos, bookmark, and subscribe!


	19. Chapter 19

In the courthouse corridor, after that day’s session, Napoleon walked down the hall, flanked by Gaby and Illya. 

         “Seven tonight, we’ll do a final Victoria review.  I want to slam-dunk this bitch” he growled.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

Later that evening, Napoleon drove down a street in the D.C. business district, his windshield wipers fighting against the rain.  After driving for a little while, he pulled over at his usual newsstand and hopped out, leaving the lights flashing and the door open as he ran over to the stand.

         “Hey Rudi” he greeted.

         “Admiral, how’s the big case going?” Rudi asked.

         “Nose to the grindstone” Napoleon replied.

         “No flies on you” Rudi stated.

         “A rolling stone gathers no moss” Napoleon countered.

         “Yeah, well it ain’t over till the fat lady sings” Rudi reminded.

         “Ain’t that the truth.  Catch you tomorrow” Napoleon bid as he ran back to his car, getting in and tossing the newspaper on the passenger seat.  He then turned on the ignition and as soon as he did so, a hand was slapped over his mouth.

         “It’s Alexander Vinciguerra” a voice whispered, making Napoleon jump out of his skin because sitting in the back seat of his car, in civilian clothes, was **ALEXANDER VINCIGUERRA.**

Jesus fucking Christ!!” Napoleon exclaimed.

         “You left the door unlocked” Alexander stated.

         “Scared the shit outta me” Napoleon growled.

         “Drive” Alexander ordered.

         “Are you aware you’re under subpoena?” Napoleon asked.

         “Yes.  I’m also aware that the lives of two marines are in your hands.  If there was something I could do about that, I would, but since I can’t, all I can do is help you.  So why don’t you drive, Lieutenant” Alexander snarled softly.  Napoleon paused before he began driving down the street.

         “What do you know?” he asked.

         “I know everything” Alexander replied.

         “Was it a code red?” Napoleon inquired.

         Yes” Alexander replied.

         “Did Victoria give the order?” Napoleon demanded.

         “Yes” Alexander answered.

         “Did you witness it?” Napoleon questioned.

         “I didn’t need to—” Alexander started.

         “Did you witness it?!” Napoleon roared.

         “No” Vinciguerra replied.  Napoleon narrowed his eyes.

         “Then how do you know?” he demanded.

         “I know” Alexander stated plainly.  Napoleon rolled his eyes.

         “You know shit” he growled.

         “He was never gonna be transferred off the base” Alexander deadpanned.  And with that, Napoleon screeched the car over to the side of the road, grabbed the parking brake, and pulled it before turning to face Alexander.

         “Sanders was going to keep him on the base.  He said he wanted him trained” Alexander continued.

         “We’ve got the transfer order.  It’s got your signature” Napoleon argued.

         “I know.  I sighed it the morning you arrived in Cuba.  Six days after Ananasso died” Alexander explained.  Napoleon blinked, his wheels spinning.

         “I’m gonna get you a deal.  Some kind of immunity with the prosecutor.  In about four days, you’re gonna appear you’re gonna tell the court exactly what you told me.  Right now, I’m gonna check you into a motel and we’re gonna start from the beginning” he stated.  Alexander shook his head.

         “I don’t want a deal.  And I don’t want immunity” he argued.  Napoleon shook his head before he laughed.

         “I want you to know, I’m neither proud of what I’ve done or what I’m doing” he stated before he put his car in gear and began driving again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys are enjoying this story! Please continue to leave comments, kudos, bookmark, and subscribe!


	20. Chapter 20

After he dropped Alexander Vinciguerra off, Napoleon drove back to his apartment and told Illya and Gaby what had happened.  Once he was finished, there was silence before Illya cleared his throat.

         “Where is he?” he demanded.

         “The Route 23 Best Western” Napoleon answered as Illya picked up a phone.

         “I want him guarded” he explained.  Napoleon nodded.

         “That’s probably a good idea” he agreed.  Illya then turned his attention back to the phone.

         “This is Lieutenant Commander Illya Kuryakin.  My clearance code is 411273” he stated with dignity.  Napoleon raised an eyebrow, impressed, before he turned to Gaby.

         “Clearance code?” he asked.

         “Thank you” Illya thanked into the phone.

         “I don’t have a clearance code.  Do you have a—” Napoleon started.

         “It is Illya Kuryakin.  I need to secure witness” Illya ordered.  He continued to give information to the person over the phone while Napoleon kept talking to the both of them.  Gaby was writing down notes as fast as she could.

         “He also said that Sanders’ lying about the transportation off the base.  Sanders said six the next morning was the first flight Ananasso could’ve left on, Vinciguerra says there was a plane that left seven hours earlier” Napoleon explained as Illya hung up the phone.

         “черт” he swore.  Napoleon then looked over at him, blue eyes twinkling.

         “That was impressive.  Did you hear what I just said about the flight?” he asked.  Illya nodded.

         “да” he replied.  Napoleon then turned back to Gaby.

         “Gaby, when a plane takes off from a base, there’s gotta be some kind of record kept, right?” he asked.  Gaby nodded.

         “We need the Tower Chief’s Log for GTIMO” she explained.  Napoleon’s eyes hardened.

         “Get it” he ordered.

         “Мы собираемся победить” Illya stated softly, slipping back into his native tongue.  Napoleon turned and looked at him, crossing his arms.

         “Peril, don’t get crazy about this.  We don’t know who Vinciguerra is.  We don’t know what the log book’s gonna say.  You just concentrate on Stark.  I’m gonna talk to James and tell him where we are” he stated.  Illya smirked.

         _“Cowboy’s got his case now, Cowboy’s got his case now”_ he sang.  Napoleon shook his head and smiled fondly.

         “You are like seven of the strangest men I have ever met” he murmured.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

In a Washington saloon, a waitress set two drinks down in front of Napoleon and James, who were sitting across from each other in a booth in the back.

         “That was nice work today.  The redirect on Howard” James praised.

         “I have Vinciguerra” Napoleon deadpanned, ignoring the praise.  James only took a moment to digest this.

         “Where is he?” he demanded.

         “A motel in Arlington with 14 Federal Marshals outside his door.  Take a sip of your drink” Napoleon suggested.  James shook his head.

         “Damn” he swore.

         “The transfer order that Vinciguerra sighed is phony.  And Sanders’ statement that the six a.m. was the first available is a lie, we’re checking the tower chief’s log.  But in the meantime, I’m gonna put the Apostle Victoria Debicki on the stand and see if we can’t have a little fun” Napoleon snarled.  James took another sip of his drink before he sighed.

         “I have an obligation to tell you that if you accuse Victoria or Sanders of any crime without proper evidence, you’ll be subject to Court-Martial for professional misconduct.  And that’s something that’ll be stapled to every job application you ever fill out.  Vinciguerra’s not gonna hold up, he’s a crazy man.  I’m not saying this to intimidate you.  I’m being your lawyer” he explained.  Napoleon smiled sarcastically.

         “Thanks James.  And I wanna tell you that I think the whole fuckin’ bunch of you are certifiably insane.  And this code of honor of yours makes me wanna beat the shit outta something” he snarled.  James narrowed his eyes at Napoleon.

         “Don’t you dare lump me in Sanders and Vinciguerra and Debicki because we wear the same uniform.  I’m your friend, Solo, and I’m telling you, I don’t think your clients belong in jail.  But I don’t get to make that decision.  I represent the Government of the United States.  Without passion or prejudice.  And my client has a case” he stated before he paused.

         “I want you to acknowledge that the judge advocate has made you aware of the possible consequences involved in accusing a marine officer of a felony without proper evidence” he explained.  Napoleon inclined his head.

         “I’ve been so advised” he murmured as James stood up and heaved a few dollars on the table.

         “You got bullied into that courtroom, Solo.  By everyone.  By Deuster, by Kuryakin; shit, I practically dared you.  Not for a second have you believed you could win.  You got bullied into that room by the memory of a dead lawyer” he spat.

         “You’re a lousy softball player, James” Napoleon retorted.  James shook his head.

         “Your boys are going down.  I can’t stop it anymore” he stated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is gonna be the last update for a while because school is starting to get more hectic and I'm also losing sleep (not because of this, but because of stress from school and other stuff like that)
> 
> But I hope you guys are enjoying this story! Please continue to leave comments, kudos, bookmark, and subscribe!
> 
>  
> 
> черт - damn
> 
> да - yes
> 
> Мы собираемся победить - We're going to win


	21. Chapter 21

The next day, in the courtroom corridor, people were filling in.  Lieutenant Victoria Debicki was standing at the entrance to the courtroom when Napoleon glided right past her.

            “Batter up, Vicky” he sneered as he walked away.  Victoria narrowed her eyes as she watched that impudent thing walk into the courtroom, a little annoyed.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

In the courtroom, Victoria was placed on the stand.  As Napoleon stared at Victoria, the only thought that was driving his entire examination of her was this: he had her.  He was going to win.  At least this round.  All he had to do was not let his emotions take control of his professional skill, which he could do.  Behind him, Gaby had all of the files and documents at the ready to hand to Napoleon as he needed them.

            “Lieutenant Debicki, in your opinion, was Private Ananasso a good marine?” Napoleon asked.  Victoria shrugged.

            “I’d say he was about average” she replied.  Napoleon raised an eyebrow as Gaby handed him three fitness reports.

            “Lieutenant, you signed three fitness reports on Ananasso.  On all three reports, you indicated a rating of “Below Average”” he stated.  Victoria nodded.

            “Yes.  Private Ananasso was Below Average; I didn’t see the need in trampling on a man’s grave” she replied.  Napoleon crossed his arms.

            “We appreciate that, but you’re under oath now, and I think, unpleasant as it may be, we’d all just as soon hear the truth” he advised.  Victoria narrowed her eyes at Napoleon.

            “I’m aware of my oath” she growled as Napoleon was handed more files.

            “Lieutenant, these are the last three fitness reports you sighed for Lance Corporal Deuster and PFC Stark.  Stark received three straight marks of “Exceptional”.  Deuster received two marks of “Exceptional” but on this most recent report, dated June 9th of this year, he recieved a rating of “Below Average”.  It’s this last report that I’d like to discuss for a moment” Napoleon explained.

            “That’s fine” Victoria replied with a shrug.

            “Lance Corporal Deuster’s ranking after Infantry Training School was perfect.  Records indicated that over half that class has since been promoted to full corporal, while Deuster has remained a lance corporal.  Was Deuster’s promotion held up because of this last fitness report?” Napoleon asked.

            “I’m sure they were” Victoria replied sarcastically.

            “Do you recall why Deuster was given such a poor grade on this report?” Napoleon asked.

            “I’m sure I don’t.  I have many men in my charge, Lieutenant.  I write many fitness reports” Victoria snapped.

            “Do you recall an incident involving a PFC Curtis Barnes who’d been found stealing liquor from the Officer’s Club?” Napoleon asked, raising an eyebrow.

            “Yes” Victoria answered.

            “Did you report Private Barnes to the proper authorities?” Napoleon inquired.

            “I have two books at my bedside, Lieutenant, the Marine code of Conduct and the King James Bible.  The only proper authorities I’m aware of my Commanding Officer, Colonel Nathan R. Sanders and the Lord our God” Victoria snapped.  Napoleon smirked.

            “Lieutenant Debicki, at your request, I can have the record reflect your lack of acknowledgement of this court as a proper authority” he stated.

            “Objection.  Argumentative” James called out.

            “Sustained” Randolph answered before he looked at Napoleon.

            “Watch yourself, counselor” he warned.  Napoleon nodded before he turned back to Victoria.

            “Did you report Private Barnes to your superiors?” he asked.

            “I remember thinking very highly of Private Barnes and not wanting to see his record tarnished by a formal charge” Victoria answered.  Napoleon raised an eyebrow.

            “You preferred it to be handled within the unit” he inferred.  Victoria nodded.

            “I most certainly did” she replied.

            “Lieutenant, do you know what a Code Red is?” Napoleon asked.

            “Yes, I do” Victoria replied.

            “Have you ever ordered a Code Red?” Napoleon asked.

            “No, I have not” Victoria spat.

            “Lieutenant, did you order Deuster and two other men to make sure that Private Barnes receive no food or drink except wart for a period of seven days?” Napoleon inquired.  Victoria’s eyes widened.

            “That’s distortion of the truth.  Private Barnes was placed on barracks restriction.  He was given water and vitamin supplements and I assure you that at no time was his health in danger” she growled.  Napoleon smiled thinly.

            “I’m sure it was lovely for Private Barnes, but you did order the barrack restriction, didn’t you?  And you did order the denial of food” he stated.  Victoria sighed and nodded.

            “Yes” she answered.  Napoleon raised an eyebrow.

            “Wouldn’t this form of discipline be considered a Code Red?” he asked.  Victoria paused.

            “Not necessarily” she answered.

            “If I called the other 8000 men at Guantanamo Bay to testify, would they consider it a Code Red?” Napoleon asked.

            “Please the court, the witness can’t possibly testify as to what 8000 other men would say.  We object to this entire line of questioning as argumentative and irrelevant badgering of the witness” James called out.

            “The Government’s objection is sustained, Lieutenant Solo, and I would remind you that you’re now questioning a marine officer with an impeccable service record” Randolph admonished.

            “Thank you, Judge” James thanked as Napoleon looked over at Deuster.  They shared a brief moment before Napoleon turned back to Victoria.

            “Lieutenant, was Deuster given a rating of “Below Average” on this last fitness report because you learned he’d been sneaking food to Private Barnes?” he asked before he looked back at James and held up a finger.

            “Not so fast” he declared.  He then turned back to Victoria.

            “Lieutenant?” he asked.  Victoria frowned.

            “Corporal Deuster was found to be “Below Average” because he committed a crime” she answered.  Napoleon raised an eyebrow.

            “What crime did he commit?” he asked.  Victoria didn’t answer.

            “Lieutenant Debicki?” Napoleon repeated.  Victoria still didn’t answer.

            “Deuster brought a hungry guy some food.  What crime did he commit?” he reiterated, enunciating every word.  Victoria scowled.

            “He disobeyed an order” she answered.  Napoleon put his hands on his hips.

            “And because he did, because he exercised his own set of values, because he made a decision about the welfare of a marine that in conflict with an order of yours, he was punished, is that right?” he asked.

            “Corporal Deuster disobeyed an order” Victoria repeated.

            “Yeah, but it wasn’t an order was it?  After all, it’s peacetime.  He wasn’t being asked to secure a hill…or advance on a beachhead.  I mean, surely a marine of Deuster’s intelligence can be trusted to determine on his own, which ware the really important orders and which orders might, say, be morally questionable” Napoleon argued before he paused.

            “Lieutenant Debicki?” he asked.  Victoria just scowled again.

            “Can he?  Can Corporal Deuster determine on his own which orders he’s gonna follow?” Napoleon asked.

            “No, he cannot” Victoria spat.

            “A lesson he learned after the Curtin Barnes incident, am I right?” Napoleon asked with a knowing smirk.

            “I would think so” Victoria replied.  Napoleon narrowed his eyes.

            “You know so, don’t you, Lieutenant” he growled.

            “Objection!” James shouted.

            “Sustained” Randolph answered.

            “Lieutenant Debicki, one final question: if you ordered Deuster to give Ananasso a Code Red—” Napoleon started.

            “—please the court—” James called out.

            “I told those men not to touch Ananasso” Victoria snarled.

            “—is it reasonable to think that he would’ve disobeyed you again?” Napoleon finished.

            “Lieutenant, don’t answer that” James ordered.

            “You don’t have to, I’m through” Napoleon stated, crossing his arms.

            “Lieutenant Debicki, did you order Corporal Deuster and Private Stark to give Alessandro Ananasso a Code Red?” James asked, but Victoria wasn’t listening – she was glaring at Napoleon.

            “Lieutenant Debicki, did you—” James started.

            “No, I did not” Victoria growled.

            “Thank you” James thanked with a nod.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, it's been a while since I updated this story. Sorry about that. Been busy with school and other stories. But I hope you guys are enjoying this story and please don't be afraid to leave comments, kudos, bookmark, and subscribe!


	22. Chapter 22

That evening, in Napoleon’s apartment, Napoleon was flipping through a book when Gaby walked in, some bound papers under her arms.  Illya was in the apartment as well, quietly observing Napoleon as he read his own book.

            “What’s the word?” Napoleon asked.

            “This is the tower chief’s log for that night.  Sanders was telling the truth.  The six a.m. flight was the first plane out” Gaby replied.  Napoleon looked from his book and quickly snapped it shut, holding out his hand.

            “Let me see that” he ordered.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

After he read the log, Napoleon quickly drove to the motel where Alexander Vinciguerra was staying and quickly pulled up next to a sedan that had U.S. MARSHALL stenciled onto the door.  As he hopped out, one of the agents stuck his head out of the window.

            “Working late, lieutenant?” he asked, but Napoleon didn’t pay him any attention as he stormed over to Vinciguerra’s room and banged on the door.  The door then opened and Napoleon shoved his way inside, tossing the log book on the table.

            “There was no flight out at eleven o’clock.  What the fuck are you trying to pull?” he growled, glaring at Vinciguerra.

            “The first flight stateside left Guantanamo Bay at eleven and arrived at Andrews Air Force Base, Maryland, at a few minutes past two” Alexander answered calmly.

            “Then why the hell isn’t it listed in the Tower Chief’s log?!” Napoleon shouted.

            “Why the hell did you think it would be?!” Alexander roared back.  Napoleon was quiet for a moment, letting it sink in.

            “What are you telling me?” he asked before he blinked.

            “He changed the log book?” he asked, confused.  Well, this was a setback.  A big ass setback.

            “Well, maybe he can make it so a plane didn’t take off, but I can sure as hell prove that one landed.  I’ll get the log book from Andrews” he continued.  Alexander said nothing, but his face said that Napoleon was born yesterday.

            “He made an entire flight disappear?” Napoleon whispered in awe.  Alexander crossed his arms.

            “Nathan Sanders is about to be named Director of Operations for the National Security Council.  You don’t get that position without knowing how to side-step a few land mines”  he explained.

            “And putting me on the stand isn’t gonna make him step on one” he added.  Napoleon stared at him for a moment before he shook his head and picked up the log book off the table, turning and heading for the door.

            “You’re taking the stand.  Thursday” he commanded before he walked out of the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hella short chapter. Sorry guys. But I hope you guys are enjoying this story! Please continue to leave comments, kudos, bookmark, and subscribe!


	23. Chapter 23

Later that evening, Napoleon told Gaby and Illya what he had found out from Vinciguerra.

            “There’s gotta be someone who can testify to the flight.  A ground crew member.  Someone” Napoleon grumbled.

            “Do you have any idea how many planes take off and land every day?  A kid from the ground crew isn’t gonna remember a flight that landed four weeks ago” Gaby exclaimed.

            “Forget the flight.  We’ll put Vinciguerra on the stand we’ll deal with Sanders’ refusal to transfer Ananasso and he’ll testify to the forged transfer order.  That’ll be enough.  That and Stark’s testimony really oughta be enough” Napoleon murmured, sighing deeply.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

The next day, in the holding room, Illya was working with Stark, who was sitting on a mock witness stand.

            “Private Stark, why did you go into Ananasso’s room on the night of the 6th?” Illya inquired.

            “To give Private Ananasso a Code Red, sir” Stark answered.

            “And why did you give him a Code Red?” Illya asked.

            “I was ordered to give him a Code Red by the Executive office for Rifle Security Company Winward, Lieutenant Victoria Debicki” Stark answered.  Illya smiled.

            “You are going to do fine” he assured.  Stark smiled in return.

            “You think they’ll let us go back to our platoon soon, sir?” he asked.  Illya paused.

            “Absolutely” he replied.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

In the courtroom, Illya was going over last minute details with Napoleon.

            “You remember order of questions?” Illya asked.  Napoleon nodded.

            “Yes” he replied.

            “Are you sure?” Illya inquired.

            “Yes” Napoleon assured.

            “And you will use small words?” Illya asked.  Napoleon nodded.

            “Yes” he replied.

            “He gets rattled when he does not understand something” Illya explained.

            “Peril—” Napoleon started.

            “I am just saying, go slow” Illya advised.  Napoleon nodded.

            “I’m gonna go slow” he assured.  Illya nodded.

            “Okay” he agreed.  Napoleon let out a sigh.

            “Alright” he breathed.

            “And get him off as fast as you can” Illya added.  Napoleon rolled his eyes.

            “Peril!” he exclaimed.  Illya looked at him.

            “What?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.  Napoleon smiled softly and reached out, giving Illya’s bicep a squeeze.

            “He’s going to be fine” he assured softly.  Illya nodded before they both turned and headed into the courtroom.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

_“Dear Mr. and Mrs. Ananasso...I was Alessandro's company commander.  I knew your son vaguely, which is to say I knew his name...In a matter of time, the trial of the two man charged with your son's death will be concluded, and seven men and two women whom you've never met will try to offer you an explanation as to why Alessandro is dead.  For my part, I've done as much as I can to bring the truth to light. And the truth is this: your son is dead for only one reason. I wasn't strong enough to stop it._

_Always, Captain Alexander Vinciguerra.  United States Marine Corps.”_

After Alexander wrote the letter, he went over to the bed and got dressed in his class A dress uniform, complete with medals, side arm, and military dress sabre.  Once he was dressed, he stood in the middle of the motel room, took the pistol out of his holster, cocked the hammer, then placed the pistol in his mouth.  And pulled the trigger.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

In the courtroom, Napoleon was finishing up his questioning of Stark.

               “Private, I want you to tell us one last time: Why did you go into Private Ananasso’s room on the night of August 6th?” he asked.

               “A code red was ordered by my platoon commander, Lieutenant Victoria Debicki” Stark answered.

               “Thank you” Napoleon thanked before he turned to James.

               “Your witness” he stated.  James nodded as Napoleon went back to his bench.

               “Private, for the week of August 2nd, the switch log has you down at Post 39, is that correct?” he asked.  Stark nodded.

               “I’m sure it is, sir, they keep that log pretty good” he replied.

               “How far is it from Post 39 to the Windward barracks?” James asked.

               “It’s a ways, sir, it’s a hike” Stark answered.

               “About how far by jeep?” James asked.

               “About ten, fifteen minutes, sir” Stark explained.

               “Have you ever had to walk it?” James inquired.

               “Yes sir.  That day, sir.  Friday.  The Pick-up Private, sir, that’s what we call the fella who drops us at our posts and picks us up, also, cause he can get girls in New York City, the Pick-up Private got a flat…” Stark began.  Meanwhile, at the defense table, Napoleon, poker-faced, scribbled something down on a piece of paper and slid it to Illya.

               _“Where’s he going with this?”_ he scribbled.  Illya scribbled something back before sliding it back.

               _“?”_ he replied.

               “…Right at 39.  He pulled up and blam!  A blowout with no spare.  The two of us had to double-time it back to the barracks” Stark explained.  James crossed his arms.

               “And if it’s ten or fifteen minutes by jeep, I’m guessing it must be a good hour by foot, am I right?” he asked.

               “Pick-up and me did it in 45 flat, sir” Stark answered.  James nodded.

               “Not bad.  Now you say your assault on Private Ananasso was the result of an order that Lieutenant Debicki gave in your barracks at 16:20” he started.  Napoleon and Illya knew what was coming.  There was nothing they could do about it and they couldn’t lose their cool in front of the jury, especially Napoleon, since he was lead counsel.

               “Yes sir” Stark answered.  Illya looked over at Napoleon, icy blue eyes full of panic.

               “But you just said that you didn’t make it back to Windward Barracks until 16:45” James argued.  Stark blinked, confused.  These definitely weren’t the questions he had been asked before.

               “Sir?” he asked.

               “If you didn’t make it back to your barracks until 16:45, then how could you be in your room at 16:20?” James asked.  Stark paused.

               “You see sir, there was a flat tire” he answered.

               “Private, did you ever actually hear Lieutenant Debicki order a Code Red?” James asked.  Napoleon shut his eyes and let out a sigh.  His world was falling down around him and there was nothing he could do about it.  And he knew it.  Stark paused again.

               “No sir” he finally answered, making Illya leap to his feet.

               “Please the court, I would like to request recess in order to confer with my client” he called out.

               “Why did you go into Ananasso’s room?” James inquired.

               “The witness has rights” Illya snarled.

               “The witness has been read his rights, commander” James snapped back.

               “Jul?” Stark called out.

               “The question will be repeated” Randolph stated.

               “Why did you go into Ananasso’s room?” James repeated.

               “Your Honor—” Illya started.

               “Jul?” Stark called out again.

               “Did Corporal Deuster tell you to do it?” James asked.  Everyone froze.

               “He did, didn’t he?  Deuster told you to give Ananasso a Code Red” James snapped.  Stark then looked over at Deuster.

               “Jul?” he called out.

               “Don’t look at him” James ordered.

               “Jul?” Stark called again.

               “Private.  Answer the Lieutenant’s question” Deuster ordered softly, almost comfortingly.  The room was still silent.  Then, Stark did something no one had ever seen him do before.  He straightened himself up and looked straight at James.

               “Yes, Lieutenant.  I was given an order by my squad leader, Lance Corporal Julian Michael Deuster of the U.S. Marine Corps.  And I followed it” he declared, pride in his voice of a man who believed he had done the right thing.  James let that statement hang before looking over at Napoleon, but the man wouldn’t meet his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit, it's been a while. I am so, so, so sorry for the wait, but I've been busy updating all of my other fanfictions so this one kind of just gets tossed by the wayside sometimes. That does not mean I still don't care about it, it just takes a while to rewrite it to make it flow better, you know? Also, school is becoming a bitch because I have finals in 2 weeks, so that's happening. But yeah, hope you guys are enjoying this story! Please continue to leave comments, kudos, bookmark, and subscribe! I apologize once more for the lateness of the update!


	24. Chapter 24

Later on that evening, in Napoleon’s apartment, Gaby and Illya were sitting in silence.

               “Where do you think he is?” Illya asked, slightly concerned.  Gaby just shrugged in reply.  Illya let out a sigh, completely beside himself, and was desperately trying to keep it together.

               “As far as Stark was concerned, it was an order from Victoria.  It did not matter that he did not hear it first-hand.  He does not distinguish between two” he continued.  Gaby understood what he was saying, but she didn’t respond.  Suddenly, the door flew open and Napoleon walked in, making Gaby and Illya look up in surprise.

               “Ковбой, прости” Illya apologized. 

               “Don’t worry about it” Napoleon replied, seeming in an incredibly normal mood.  Illya then sighed.

               “Gaby and I were just talking about how all we really have to do is call some witnesses who will talk about implied orders…or maybe we put Stark back on the stand before we get to Deuster” he explained.

               “Maybe if we work at it, we can get Deuster charged with the Kennedy assassination” Napoleon muttered.  Illya was quiet as he studied him for a moment.

               “Are you drunk?” he asked finally.

               “Pretty much, yeah” Napoleon slurred.  Illya paused before he sighed.

               “I’ll make pot of coffee.  We have long night’s work ahead” he stated.  Napoleon chuckled.

               “He’s gonna make coffee.  That’s nice” he murmured before he shook his head.

               “He wasn’t in his room” he whispered.  He then looked at Illya and Gaby.

               “He wasn’t even there.  That was an important piece of information, don’t you think?” he exclaimed.

               “Cowboy, it was just setback.  I’m sorry.  But we’ll fix it and then move on to Vinciguerra” Illya stated.

               “Vinciguerra’s dead” Napoleon spat, making Illya and Gaby freeze.  Napoleon then let out a harsh laugh.

               “You really gotta hand it to those Federal Marshals, boy.  It’s not like he hanged himself by his shoelaces or slashed his wrists with a concealed butter knife.  No, this guy got into full dress uniform, stood in the middle of that room, drew a nickel plated pistol from his holster and fired a bullet into his mouth” he growled.  Illya and Gaby said nothing and just listened to Napoleon rant.

               “Anyway, since we seem to be out of witnesses, I thought I’d drink a little” Napoleon continued.

               “I still think we can win” Illya declared.  Napoleon looked at him and raised an eyebrow.

               “Then maybe you should drink a little” he suggested.

               “Look, we’ll go to Randolph in the morning and make motion for continuance.  24 hours” Illya argued.

               “Why would we want to do that?” Napoleon asked.

               “To subpoena Colonel Sanders” Illya deadpanned.

               “What?” Napoleon exclaimed.

               “Listen for second—” Illya started when Napoleon shook his head.

               “No” he deadpanned.

               “Just hear me out—” Illya begged but Napoleon held up a hand.

               “No!  I won’t listen to you and I won’t hear you out.  Your passion is comforting, Peril, but it’s also _USELESS!_ Private Stark needed a trial lawyer today” he snapped.  Illya blinked before he narrowed his eyes.

               “Вы курица дерьмо. Ты собираешься использовать то, что произошло сегодня в качестве предлога, чтобы сдаться” he spat angrily in Russian.

               “It’s over!” Napoleon shouted, making Illya stand up, icy-blue eyes bright.

               “Why did you ask Sanders for transfer order?” he shouted, enraged.

               “What are you—” Napoleon started, shocked by Illya’s anger.

               “In Cuba.  Why did you ask Sanders for transfer order?” Illya demanded.

               “What does it matter—” Napoleon started again.

               “WHY?!” Illya roared.

               “I wanted the damn transfer order!” Napoleon roared back.

               “Ерунда!  You could have gotten it by picking up the phone and calling any one of a dozen departments at the Pentagon.  You didn’t want transfer order.  You wanted to see Sanders’ reaction when you asked for transfer order.  You had instinct.  And it was confirmed by Vinciguerra.  Now damn it, let’s put Sanders on stand and end this thing!” Illya shouted.

               “What good could come from putting Sanders on the stand?” Napoleon demanded.

               “He told Victoria to order Code Red” Illya answered.

               “He did?!  Why didn’t you say so?!  That’s great!  And of course you have proof of that” Napoleon exclaimed sarcastically.

               “I—” Illya started.

               “Ah, I keep forgetting: YOU WERE SICK THE DAY THEY TAUGHT LAW AT LAW SCHOOL!” Napoleon roared.

               “You put him on stand you get it from him!” Illya roared back.

               “Yes.  No problem.  We get it from him” Napoleon assured before he turned to Gaby.

               “Colonel, isn’t it true that you ordered the Code Red on Ananasso?” he sneered.

               “Look, we’re all a little –” Gaby started.

               “I’m sorry, your time’s run out.  What do we have for the loser, Judge?  Well, for our defendants it’s a lifetime at exotic Fort Leavenworth.  And for defense counsel Solo?  That’s right!  It’s.  A.  Court.  Martial!  Yes, Johnny, after falsely accusing a marine officer of conspiracy, Lieutenant Solo will have a long and prosperous career teaching typewrite maintenance at the Rocco Columbo School for Women.  Thank you for playing _“Should We or Should We Not Follow the Advice of the Galactically Stupid!”_ ” he shouted before knocking everything from his desk in one sweeping motion, making a ton of papers, books, files, etc. fall to the floor.  After everything crashed to the floor, there was dead silence, save for the sound of Napoleon breathing after this exhausting outburst.

               “Прости, что потерял твой набор ножей для стейка” Illya apologized softly before he grabbed his coat and walked out, the door slamming behind him.  Napoleon stared at the door for a moment before he turned and walked into the kitchen without a word while Gaby got down on the floor and began picking up all of the stuff that Napoleon knocked off the desk in his fit of rage.  Soon Napoleon came back with a bottle of Jack Daniels in his hand and stopped as he looked down at Gaby picking up his mess.

               “Stop cleaning up” he ordered, but Gaby ignored him and continued to clean.

               “Gaby.  Stop cleaning” Napoleon repeated.  Finally Gaby listened and stopped, pushing herself up into a chair while Napoleon sat down on his couch.

               “You want a drink?” Napoleon asked, holding out the bottle.  Gaby nodded.

               “Yeah” she replied, taking the bottle and taking a swig from it. 

               “Is your father proud of you?” Napoleon asked.  Gaby shook her head.

               “Don’t do this to yourself” she replied.  Napoleon ignored her.

               “I’ll be he is.  I’ll be he bores the shit outta the neighbors and the relatives.  _“Gaby made Law Review.  She’s got a big case she’s making.  She arguing making an argument”_ ” Napoleon drawled before he sighed.

               “I think my father would’ve enjoyed seeing me graduate from law school” he murmured before he paused.

               “I think he would’ve liked that…an awful lot” he finished softly.

               “Did I ever tell you that I wrote a paper on your father in college?” Gaby asked.  Napoleon raised an eyebrow at her.

               “Yeah?” he asked.

               “He was one of the best trial lawyers ever” Gaby continued.

               “Yes, he was” Napoleon agreed softly.

               “And if I were Deuster and Stark and I had a choice between you or your father to represent me in this case, I’d take you any day of the week and twice on Sunday.  You should’ve seen yourself thunder away at Victoria” Gaby praised.

               “Would you put Sanders on the stand?” Napoleon inquired.

               “No” Gaby answered honestly.

               “You think my father would’ve?” Napoleon asked.  Gaby shook her head.

               “With the evidence we’ve got?  Not in a million years.  But here’s the thing – and there’s really no way of getting around this – neither Lionel Solo nor Gabrielle Teller are lead counsel for the defense in the matter of U.S. vs. Deuster and Stark.  So there’s only one question: what would you do?” she asked.  Napoleon was quiet, thinking over Gaby’s question.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

Meanwhile, out on a suburban street, Illya was walking through the night at a brisk pace, doing his best not to lose it.  As he was walking, Napoleon’s car appeared behind him, with Gaby behind the wheel, before speeding up to catch up with him before slowing down to crawl alongside him.

               “Illya” Napoleon called out from the passenger’s side, using the Russian man’s real name instead of his nickname.  Illya ignored them and kept walking as the car continued to crawl along with him. 

               “Peril, we look ridiculous” Napoleon begged as Illya began to walk faster.  He then turned towards Gaby.

               “Stop the car” he ordered.  Gaby did what she was told and stopped the car as Napoleon hopped out and rushed after Illya.

               “Illya” Napoleon called out.  Illya ignored him and kept walking.

               “Извинить.  Я был зол.....Я не должна была говорить то, что сказала.  прости меня” Napoleon called out in Russian.  Illya just kept walking.

               “I’m gonna put Sanders on the stand” Napoleon declared.  Illya froze before he turned around, icy blue eyes wide in surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys are enjoying this story! Please continue to leave comments, kudos, bookmark, and subscribe!
> 
> Ковбой, прости - "Cowboy, sorry/I'm sorry"
> 
> Вы курица дерьмо. Ты собираешься использовать то, что произошло сегодня в качестве предлога, чтобы сдаться - "You chicken shit. You're gonna use what happened today as an excuse to give up"
> 
> Ерунда - "Bullshit"
> 
> Прости, что потерял твой набор ножей для стейка - "I'm sorry I lost you your set of steak knives"
> 
> Извинить. Я был зол.....Я не должна была говорить то, что сказала. прости меня - "I'm sorry/Excuse me. I shouldn't have said what I said. Forgive me"


	25. Chapter 25

The next afternoon, in Napoleon’s apartment, Napoleon was bouncing a nerf ball off the wall as Illya and Gaby were sprawled out around him.  For hours they had been trying to come up with an idea but they came up with nothing.

               “I say we hit him with phony transfer order” Illya suggested.

               “What’s the transfer order without a witness?” Gaby replied.

               “We have a witness” Napoleon reminded.

               “A dead witness” Gaby retorted.

               “And in the hands of a lesser attorney, that’d be a problem” Napoleon stated.  Gaby shook his head.

               “Look at this.  Last night he was swimming in his Jack Daniels, now he can leap tall buildings in a single bound” she muttered.

               “I’m getting my second wind.  Now siddown.  Both of you” Napoleon ordered, only to notice that Gaby and Illya were already sitting.

               “Good” he declared with a nod before he took a breath.

               “Sanders told Victoria to order a Code Red.  Victoria did and our clients followed the order.  The cover-up isn’t our case.  To win, Sanders has to tell jury that he _ordered_ the Code Red” he explained.

               “And you think you can get him to just say it?” Gaby asked, raising an eyebrow.

               “I think he wants to say it.  I think he’s pissed off that he’s gotta hide from us.  I think he wants to say that he made a command decision and that’s the end of it.  He eats breakfast eighty yards from four thousand Cubans who are trained to kill him and no one’s gonna tell him how to run his base.  Least of all the angry Russian, the Chop Shop Girl, and the Harvard clown.  I need to shake him and put him on the defensive” Napoleon replied.  Gaby and Illy were silent for a moment before Gaby spoke.

               “That’s it?  That’s the plan?” she asked.

               “That’s the plan” Napoleon replied.  Gaby shook her head.

               “You’re gonna trip Sanders and he’s gonna confess” she continued.  Napoleon shook his head.

               “I’m not gonna trip him.  I’m gonna lead him right where he’s dying to go” he explained.  Gaby placed her hands on her hips.

               “And how are you gonna do that?” she asked.  Napoleon shook his head.

               “I have no idea.  I need my bat” he stated.  Illya raised an eyebrow.

               “What?” he asked.

               “I need my bat.  I think better with my bat.  Where’s my bat?” Napoleon replied.

               “I put it in closet” Illya stated.  Napoleon paused before he looked into the Russian’s icy blue eyes.

               “You put it in the closet” he repeated before he sighed and pushed himself to his feet, walking over to the closet.

               “Don’t ever put a bat in a closet” he instructed.  Illya looked at Gaby and raised an eyebrow.

               “He’s think better with bat?” he asked.  Gaby shrugged.

               “I can understand that.  I used to have a stuffed panda named Mr. Boob.  I could never do my homework without him” he replied.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

When Napoleon reached the closet, he opened the door and reached in to grab his bat when all of a sudden, he noticed something: his clothes.  His uniforms and civilians clothes.  All hanging neatly along the bar.  He stared at them for a moment before he turned and headed back through the living room towards the front door.

               “Stay here, I’m going to the office for a while” he stated before he stormed out the door.  Gaby crossed her arms, a smirk on her face.

               “Boy, he does think better with that bat” she mused.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

At the office, the computer room was a small room at the end of the corridor and Napoleon stood over the printer and watched as it spit out something he had been waiting for.  He tore the printout off before heading towards his office.  In his office, he looked over the computer printout and from what he could tell, it resembled a large, military coded phone bill.  Napoleon then picked up the landline and dialed a number.

               “Gaby” Napoleon stated when the person answered the other line.

               “I need you to do something” he ordered.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

Back at Napoleon’s apartment, Gaby hung up the phone slowly, making Illya raise an eyebrow at her.

               “What is going on?” he asked.

               “I’ve gotta go out to Andrews” Gaby answered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys are enjoying this story! Please continue to leave comments, kudos, bookmark, and subscribe!


	26. Chapter 26

The next day, in the courthouse, the day’s session was about to begin in a few minutes as Napoleon came around the corner, running into Illya.

               “Is Gaby here yet?” he asked.  Illya shook his head.

               “Not yet” he replied.  Napoleon bit his lip.

               “Where is she?” he murmured.

               “She is on her way” Illya assured.

               “Did she get the guys?” Napoleon asked.  Illya nodded.

               “Yes.  Listen, can I talk to you for second?” he asked.  Napoleon nodded and followed after Illya as he headed towards an ante-room off the corridor.  When they stepped inside, Illya shut the door behind them.

               “Как вы себя чувствуете?” he asked, looking at Napoleon with concerned eyes.  Napoleon shrugged.

               “I think he’s gonna have his hands full today” he replied.

               “Listen…Cowboy” Illya started before he paused, making Napoleon look at him with curious eyes.

               “When you are out there.  If it is not going to happen, he is not going to say it…do not go for it” he advised.  Napoleon still continued to look at him.

               “If you feel like…if you feel like…you could get in trouble” Illya explained.

               “I am special counsel for internal affairs and I am telling you, you could get in lot of trouble” he continued.  Napoleon was silent before he crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow.

               “Why, Lieutenant Commander Kuryakin…are you suggesting I back off a material witness?” he asked.  Illya sighed.

               “If you think you cannot get him…yes” he replied.

               “Do you think I can get him?” Napoleon asked softly.  Illya shook his head.

               “Does not matter what I think.  I am administrator” he replied before he paused.

               “I cannot seem to defend people” he whispered sadly, looking down in shame.  Napoleon blinked, taking that in, before he picked up his briefcase and grabbed his jacket.  He then turned towards Illya.

               “You’re my hero, Peril” he confessed.  Illya looked up at him in surprise, icy blue eyes wide.

               “From the first day, you were a lawyer” Napoleon declared before smiling affectionately at Illya’s surprised face.

               “Live with that” he stated before he headed for the door.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

               “All rise” the Sergeant at Arms called out, making everyone stand at attention as Randolph entered, save for Gaby, since she was still missing.

               “Call your witness” Randolph ordered, looking at Napoleon as he sat down.

               “Where’s Gaby?” Napoleon asked, looking over at Illya, who just put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

               “She’ll be here, Cowboy” he assured.

               “Lieutenant, call your witness” Randolph repeated.  Napoleon took a deep breath before he sighed.

               “Defense calls Colonel Nathan Sanders” he declared.  Sanders was then escorted in through a side door, dressed in his dress uniforms, adorned with the appropriate medals.

               “Colonel, do you solemnly swear that the testimony you will give in this General Court Martial will be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth so help you God?” James asked, swearing Sanders in.

               “Yes, I do” Sanders answered.

               “Would you state your name, rank, and current billet for the record please, sir?” James asked.

               “Colonel Nathan R. Sanders, Commanding officer, Marine Ground Forces, Guantanamo Bay, Cuba” Sanders answered.

               “Thank you sir, would you have a seat please” James stated.  Sanders then took a seat as Napoleon stood to his feet.

               “Colonel, when you learned of Ananasso’s letter to the NIS, you had a meeting with your two senior officers, is that right?” he asked.  Sanders nodded.

               “Yes” he answered.

               “The Executive Officer, Lieutenant Victoria Debicki and the Company Commander, Captain Alexander Vinciguerra” Napoleon continued.

               “Yes” Sanders replied.

               “And at the present, Captain Vinciguerra is dead, is that correct?” Napoleon asked.

               “Objection.  I’d like to know just what defense counsel is implying?” James asked.

               “I’m implying simply that, at the present, Captain Vinciguerra is not alive” Napoleon answered.

               “Surely Colonel Sanders doesn’t need to appear in this courtroom to confirm that information” James snapped.

               “I just wasn’t sure if the witness was aware that two days ago, Captain Vinciguerra took his own life with a .45 caliber pistol” Napoleon replied calmly as Gaby entered from the back room, escorting two young airmen in Air Force dress uniforms.  She showed the airmen to a seat near the front before taking her place at the defense table.

               “The witness is aware, the Court is aware, and now the jury is aware.  We thank you for bringing this to our attention.  Now move on, Lieutenant” Randolph order.  Meanwhile, Gaby was scribbling something on a piece of paper and showed it to Napoleon when he walked over.  Two names were written on it: _Cecil O'Malley and Anthony Perez_.  Napoleon then turned back to Randolph.

               “Yes sir.  Colonel, at the time of this meeting, you gave Lieutenant Debicki an order, is that correct?” he asked.

               “I told Debicki to tell her men that Ananasso wasn’t to be touched” Sanders answered.

               “And did you give an order to Captain Vinciguerra as well?” Napoleon asked.

               “I ordered Vinciguerra to have Ananasso transferred off the base immediately” Sanders replied.

               “Why?” Napoleon inquired. 

               “I felt that his life might be in danger once word of the letter got out” Sanders answered.  Napoleon raised an eyebrow.

               “Grave danger?” he asked.  Sanders rolled his eyes.

               “Is there another kind?” he replied.  Napoleon then held up a document from his table.

               “We have the transfer order that Vinciguerra and you co-signed, ordering that Ananasso be lifted on a flight leaving Guantanamo at six the next morning.  Was that the first flight off the base” he asked.

               “The six a.m. flight was the first flight off the base” Sanders confirmed.  Napoleon nodded and decided to move on while Sanders stole a quick glanced at the two airmen sitting out in the courtroom.

               “Colonel, you flew up to Washington early this morning, is that correct?” Napoleon asked.

               “Yes” Sanders replied.

               “I notice you’re wearing your Class A appearance in dress uniform for court today” Napoleon observed.

               “As are you, Lieutenant” Sanders retorted.

               “Did you wear that uniform on the plane?” Napoleon asked.

               “Please the Court, is this dialogue relevant to anything in particular?” James snapped.

               “The defense didn’t have an opportunity to depose this witness, Your Honor.  I’d ask the Court for a little latitude” Napoleon replied, a slight edge to his voice.

               “A _very little_ latitude” Randolph replied.

               “Colonel?” Napoleon asked, raising an eyebrow at Sanders.

               “I wore fatigues on the plane” Sanders answered.

               “And you brought your dress uniform with you” Napoleon inferred.

               “Yes” Sanders confirmed.

               “And a toothbrush?  A shaving kit?  Change of underwear?” Napoleon continued.

               “Your Honor” James called out, making Napoleon turn towards him.

               “Is the Colonel’s underwear a matter of national security?” he asked sharply.

               “Gentlemen” Randolph called out before he looked at Napoleon.

               “You better get somewhere fast with this, Lieutenant” he warned.  Napoleon nodded.

               “Yes sir” he replied before he looked at Sanders.

               “Colonel?” he asked.

               “I brought a change of clothes and some personal items” Sanders answered.

               “Thank you” Napoleon thanked before he walked over to his bench and picked up a document from his table.

               “After Deuster and Stark’s arrest on the night of the Ananasso’s barrack room was sealed off and its contents inventoried” he stated.

               “Pairs of camouflage pants, six camouflage shirts, two pairs of boots, one pair of brown shoes, one pair of tennis shoes, eight khaki t-shirts, two belts, one sweater—” he read.

               “Please the Court, is there a question anywhere in our future?” James asked, a little annoyed.

               “Lieutenant Solo, I have to—” Randolph started.

               “I’m just wondering why Ananasso wasn’t packed” Napoleon deadpanned.  And that statement landed.  On the jury, Randolph, James…

               “You know what, we’ll get back to that in a minute” Napoleon stated with a smile as Illya handed him the computer printout.

               “This a record of all telephone calls made from your base in the past 24 hours.  After being subpoenaed to Washington, you made three calls” Napoleon stated beore he handed Sanders the printout.

               “I’ve highlighted those calls in yellow.  Do you recognize those numbers?” Napoleon asked.

               “I called Colonel Fitzhuqhes in Quantico, Va. I wanted to let him know I'd be in town. The second call was to set up a meeting with Congressman Ramond of the House Armed Services Committee, and the third call was to my sister Elizabeth” Sanders answered.  Napoleon raised an eyebrow.

               “Why did you make that call, sir?” he inquired.

               “I thought she might like to have dinner tonight” Sanders replied.

               “Judge—” James called out.

               “I’m gonna put a stop to this now” Randolph growled as Illya handed Napoleon another printout and a stack of letters.

               “Your Honor, these are the telephone records from GITMO for August 6th.  And these are fourteen letters that Ananasso wrote in nine months requesting, in fact begging, for a transfer” Napoleon stated before he looked at Sanders.

               “Upon hearing the news that he was finally getting his transfer, Ananasso was so excited that do you know how many people he called?  Zero.  Nobody.  Not one call to his parents saying he was coming home.  Not one call to a friend saying, _“can you pick me up at the airport”._   He was asleep in his bed at midnight and according to you, he was getting on a plane in six hours and yet everything he owned was hanging neatly in his closet and folded neatly in his footlocker.  You were leaving for one day and you packed a bag and made three phone calls.  Ananasso was leaving for the rest of his life and he hadn’t called a soul and he hadn’t packed a thing.  Now, can you explain that?  The fact is: there was no transfer order.  Ananasso wasn’t going anywhere, isn’t that right, Colonel” he spat, glaring at the man.

               “Object.  Your Honor, it's obvious that Lieutenant Solo's intention this morning is to smear a high ranking marine officer in the desperate hope that the mere appearance of impropriety will win him points with the jury. It's my recommendation, sir, that Lieutenant Solo receive an official reprimand from the bench, and that the witness be excused with the Court's deepest apologies” James called out.  Randolph pondered James’ statement for a moment before he spoke.

               “Overruled” he declared.  James’ eyes widened.

               “Your Honor—” he started.

               “The objection’s noted” Randolph snapped.

               “Colonel?” Napoleon asked, looking at Sanders, who was smiling and couldn’t help but let out a short laugh.

               “Is this funny, sir?” Napoleon snapped.

               “No.  It’s not.  It’s tragic” Sanders replied.

               “Do you have an answer?” Napoleon asked, crossing his arms.

               “Absolutely.  My answer is: I don't have the first damn clue.  Maybe he was an early morning riser and he liked to pack in the nq.  And maybe he didn't have any friends.  I'm an educated man, but I'm afraid I can't speak intelligently about the travel habits of Alessandro Ananasso.  What I do know is that he was set to leave the base at 0600. Now are these really the questions I was called here to answer?  Phone calls and footlockers?  Please tell me you've got something more, Lieutenant.  Please tell me there's an ace up your sleeve.  These two marines are on trial for their lives.  Please tell me their lawyer hasn't pinned their hopes to a phone bill” Sanders sneered before he smiled again.

               “Do you have any other questions for me, Counselor?” he asked.  The courtroom was silent; Sanders had slammed the door.  Napoleon then looked around, noticing that the world was waiting for him to do something.

               “Lieutenant Solo?” Randolph called out.  Napoleon said nothing and just glanced over at Airmen O’Malley and Perez.

               “Lieutenant, do you have anything further for this witness?” Randolph asked.  Napoleon didn’t respond, so Sanders got up to leave.

               “Thanks, Solo.  I love Washington” he stated as he stood.  As he made his way towards the courtroom door, he was stopped by Napoleon’s soft voice.

               “Excuse me, but I didn’t dismiss you” he stated.  Sanders turned around and narrowed his eyes.

               “I beg your pardon?” he asked.

               “I’m not through with my examination.  Sit.  Down” Napoleon ordered harshly.

               “Colonel” Sanders stated. 

               “What’s that?” Napoleon asked.

               “I’d appreciate it if he addressed me as Colonel or Sir.  I believe I’ve earned it” Sanders stated to Randolph as he made his way to the stand.

               “Defense counsel will address the witness as Colonel or Sir” Randolph ordered.

               “I don’t know what the hell kind of an outfit you’re running here” Sanders grumbled to Randolph.

               “And the witness will address this Court as Jude or Your Honor.  I’m quite certain I’ve earned it.  Take your seat, Colonel” Randolph ordered.  Sanders nodded and took his seat before he looked at Napoleon.

               “What would you like to discuss now?  My favorite color?” Sanders sneered.

               “Colonel, the six a.m flight, was the first one off the base?” Napoleon asked calmly.

               “Yes” Sanders answered.

               “There wasn’t a flight that left seven hours earlier and landed at Andrews Airforce Base at 2 a.m?” Napoleon asked, raising an eyebrow.

               “Lieutenant, I think we’ve covered this, haven’t we?” Randolph asked.  Napoleon said nothing as he walked back to his bench and grabbed the two log books from his table as well as the piece of paper that Gaby scribbled on.

               “Your Honor, these are the Tower Chief's Logs for both Guantanamo Bay and Andrews Airforce Base.  The Guantanamo log lists no flight that left at eleven p.m., and the Andrews log lists no flight that landed at 2 a.m.  I'd like to admit them as Defense Exhibits "A" and "B"” Napoleon stated.  Randolph frowned.

               “I don’t understand.  You’re admitting evidence of a flight that never existed?” he asked.  Napoleon smirked.

               “We believe it did, sir” he stated before he glanced down at the paper and motioned to the airmen sitting behind him.

               “Defense'll be calling Airman Cecil O'Malley and Airman Anthony Perez.  They were working the ground crew at Andrews at two a.m. on the seventh” he continued.

               “Your Honor, these men weren't on the list. Rebuttal witnesses, Your Honor, called specifically to refute testimony offered under direct examination” James called out.  Meanwhile, out of the corner of his eye, Napoleon saw a drop of sweat form on Sanders’ forehead.

               “I’ll allow the witness” Randolph declared.

               “This is ridiculous” Sanders growled.

               “Colonel, a moment ago—” Napoleon started.

               “Check the Tower Logs for Christ’s sake” Sanders snapped.

               “We’ll get to the airmen in just a minute, sir.  A moment ago, you said that you ordered Debicki to order her men not to touch Ananasso” Napoleon stated.  Sanders nodded, growing annoyed.

               “That’s right” he agreed.

               “And Victoria was clear on what you wanted?” Napoleon asked.

               “Crystal” Sanders spat.

               “Any chance Victoria ignored the order?” Napoleon asked.

               “Ignored the order?” Sanders repeated.

               “Any chance she just forgot about it?” Napoleon asked.

               “No” Sanders growled.

               “Any chance Victoria left your office and said, _"The 'old man's wrong"_?” Napoleon inquired.

               “No” Sanders growled.

               “When Victoria spoke to the platoon and ordered them not to touch Ananasso, any chance they ignored her?” Napoleon asked.

               “Have you ever spent time in an infantry unit, son?” Sanders asked.  Napoleon shook his head.

               “No sir” he replied.

               “Ever served in a forward area?” Sanders asked.  Napoleon shook his head again.

               “No sir” he answered.

               “Ever put your life in another man's hands, ask him to put his life in yours?” Sanders demanded.  Napoleon shook his head for the third time.

               “No sir” he answered.  
               “We follow orders, son. We follow orders or people die.  It's that simple.  Are we clear?” Sanders growled.  Napoleon nodded.

               “Yes sir” he replied.

               “Are we clear?” Sanders repeated, angry now.

               “Crystal” Napoleon replied, speaking with the quiet confidence that came from knowing that he was about to drop his opponents.  He then smirked devilishly.

               “Colonel, I have just one more question before I call Airman O'Malley and Perez: If you gave an order that Ananasso wasn't to be touched, and your orders are always followed, then why would he be in danger?  Why would it be necessary to transfer him off the base?” he asked softly, raising an eyebrow.  Sanders stared at him, with no answer.  Nothing.  He just sat there, and for the first time, seemed to be lost. 

               “Private Ananasso was a sub-standard marine.  He was being transferred off the base because –” he started.

               “But that’s not what you said.  You said he was being transferred because he was in grave danger” Napoleon interjected.  Sanders paused.

               “Yes.  That’s correct but—” he started again.

               “You said _, "He was in danger"_. I said, _"Grave danger"_. You said –” Napoleon interjected again.

               “Yes, I recall what—” Sanders started.

               “I can have the Court Reporter read back your –” Napoleon started.

               “I know what I said.  I don’t need it read back to me like I’m a damn—” Sanders started.

               “Then why the two orders?!” Napoleon shouted, silencing Sanders and the entire courtroom.  He then narrowed his eyes at Sanders.

               “Colonel?  Why did you—” he started.

               “Sometimes men take matters into their own hands” Sanders spat.

               “No sir.  You made it clear just a moment ago that your men never take matters into their own hands.  Your men follow orders or people die.  So Ananasso shouldn't have been in any danger at all, should he have, Colonel?” Napoleon asked, tilting his head slightly to the side.  Everyone was sweating now.  Everyone except Napoleon.

               “You little bastard” Sanders snarled.

               “Your Honor, I have to ask for a recess to—” James started.

               “I’d like an answer to the question, Judge” Napoleon demanded, interrupting James.

               “The Court’ll wait for an answer” Randolph ordered.

               “If Victoria told her men that Ananasso wasn’t to be touched, then why did he have to be transferred?” Napoleon demanded, enraged.  Sanders said nothing, and instead was staring at O’Malley and Perez.

               “Colonel?” Napoleon asked.  Sanders said nothing.

               “Victoria ordered the Code Red, didn’t she?  Because that what you told her to do” Napoleon hissed.

               “Object!” James shouted.

               “Counsel” Randolph warned, but Napoleon just plowed through the objections of James and the admonishments of Randolph.

               “And when it went bad, you cut these guys loose” Napoleon continued.

               “Your Honor—” James shouted.

               “That’ll be all, counsel” Randolph declared.

               “You had Vinciguerra sign a phony transfer order—” Napoleon shouted.

               “Judge—” James called.

               “You doctored the log books” Napoleon continued.

               “Damnit Solo!” James cried.

               “I’ll ask for the fourth time.  You ordered—” Napoleon started.

               “You want answers?” Sanders asked, interjecting.

               “I think I’m entitled to them” Napoleon snapped.

               “You want answers?!” Sanders repeated.

               “I want the truth!” Napoleon shouted.

               **“YOU CAN’T HANDLE THE TRUTH!”** Sanders bellowed.  Nobody moved, nobody breathed.  Sanders then took a deep breath.

               “Son, we live in a world that has walls.  And those walls have to be guarded by men with guns.  Who's gonna do it?  You?” he asked, looking at Napoleon before looking over at Gaby on the defense team.

               “You, Lieutenant Teller?” he asked before looking back at Napoleon.

               “I have a greater responsibility than you can possibly fathom.  You weep for Ananasso and you curse the marines.  You have that luxury.  You have the luxury of not knowing what I know: That Ananasso's death, while tragic, probably saved lives.  And my existence, while grotesque and incomprehensible to you, saves lives” he growled before he paused.

               “You don't want the truth.  Because deep down, in places you don't talk about at parties, you want me on that wall.  You need me there” he declared, chest puffing out in pride.

               “We use words like honor, code, loyalty... we use these words as the backbone to a life spent defending something.  You use 'em as a punchline” he spat.

               “I have neither the time nor the inclination to explain myself to a man who rises and sleeps under the blanket of the very freedom I provide, then questions the manner in which I provide it.  I'd prefer you just said thank you and went on your way.  Otherwise, I suggest you pick up a weapon and stand a post.  Either way, I don't give a damn what you think you're entitled to” he growled.  Napoleon was quiet before he let out a soft breath.

               “Did you order the Code Red?” he asked softly.

               “I did the job you sent me to do” Sanders replied.

               “Did you order the Code Red?” Napoleon repeated, voice raising.

               **“YOU’RE GOD DAMN RIGHT I DID!”** Sanders shouted, face red with rage.  Absolute, complete silence followed after his outburst from everyone.  Randolph, James, the M.P’s, they were all frozen.  Gaby and Illya were likewise.  Sanders, however, seemed strangely and quietly relieved.  While everyone was frozen, Napoleon decided to take control of room.

               “Please the court, I suggest the jury be dismissd so that we can move to an immediate Article 39a Session.  The witness has rights” he stated.  He was met with silence before Randolph looked over at James.

               “Lieutenant James?” he asked.  James remained frozen.  He didn’t know what to do.

               “Adam” Napoleon called out softly, as a friend.  James looked over at him, then at Sanders before nodding “yes” to Randolph.

               “The Sergeant at Arms will take the jury to an ante-room where you’ll wait until further instructions” Randolph ordered.  The Sergeant at Arms began to lead the jurors out to the room while Sanders looked around.

               “Captain, what the hell’s going on?  I did my job, I’d do it again.  Now I’m getting on plane and going back to my base” he snarled before he stood up from the stand and began walking away.

               “M.P’s, guard the prisoner” Randolph ordered.  The M.P.’s were a little tentative.  They had never heard a marine colonel referred to as “the prisoner” before and they sure as hell had never been asked to guard one.

               “Guard the prisoner” James ordered as well.

               “What the hell—” Sanders started.

               “Colonel Sanders, you have the right to remain silent.  Any statement you do make can be used against you in a trial by court-martial or other judicial or administrative proceeding.  You have the right—” James started, reading Sanders his rights while Sanders stood there, utterly confused and angry.

               “I’m being charged with a crime?  I’m – that’s what this is—” he started before he turned to James.

               “Marine!” he shouted.  James kept reading.

               “Marine!” Sanders barked, but James ignored him and continued to do his job.  Sanders shook his head.

               “I'm being charged with a crime? I'm – that's what's happening? This – I'm – this is funny, you know that, this is—” he started before he raised his fist back and lunged at Napoleon.  Napoleon’s eyes widened and he shut his eyes, awaiting the inevitable attack, but nothing came.  He then opened his eyes to see Illya standing before him, Sanders’ wrist gripped in his larger hand, icy blue eyes dark and dangerous.

               “Вы не причините вреда лейтенанту Соло” he growled in Russian.  Sanders glared at him.

               “Damn Comie” he spat before he lashed out with his other fist, but Illya easily blocked that punch with his hand, staring at Sanders like he was nothing.  The M.P.’s then rushed in and yanked Sanders away as Illya stood like a barricade in front of Napoleon while Gaby came to stand behind him.

               “I’m gonna tear your eyes right outta your head and piss in your dead skull!  You fucked with the wrong marine!” Sanders roared, just as James finished reading him his rights.

               “Colonel Sanders, do you understand those right as I have just read them to you?” he asked.

               “I saved lives.  That boy was…there was a weak link.  I saved lives, you hear me?!” Sanders shouted.  The courtroom was still silent from Sanders’ earlier outburst, making Sanders shake his head.

               “You fucking people.  You have no idea how to defend a nation” he spat before he turned to Napoleon, who was still standing Illya, and narrowed his eyes. 

               “All you did was a weaken a country today, Solo.  That’s all you did.  You put people in danger.  Sweet dreams, son” he snarled.  Napoleon said nothing as he gently placed a hand on Illya’s arm, moving him out of the way before he calmly walked forward and got right in Sanders’ face.

               “Don’t call me son” he growled before he stood up straight and looked in Sanders’ eyes.

               “I’m a lawyer and an officer of the United States Navy.  And you’re under arrest, you sorry son of a bitch” he spat.  Napoleon and Sanders glared at one another before Napoleon smirked.

               “The witness is excused” he sneered.  The M.P.’s then began to lead Sanders out while Napoleon noticed Deuster, Stark, James watching as a man in a marine colonel’s uniform was being led away in handcuffs.  He then shook his head before he took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped some seat from his hands, taking a deep breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter before the end of this story! I hope you guys are enjoying it as much as I had writing it! Please continue to leave comments, kudos, bookmark, and subscribe!
> 
> Как вы себя чувствуете - How are you feeling?
> 
> Вы не причините вреда лейтенанту Соло - You will not harm Lieutenant Solo


	27. Chapter 27

In the courtroom, later that afternoon, there was a low murmur in the room as the jurors were led back into their box.  Once everyone was in their place, Randolph entered.

               “Ten-hut” the Sergeant at Arms ordered.  All rose before sitting when Randolph sat.

               “Have the jurors reached a verdict?” Randolph asked.

               “We have, sir” the Jury Foreman answered.  The Sergeant at Arms took all the slips of paper from the foreman and brought them to Randolph while Napoleon stood, nodding to Deuster and Stark that they should do the same.  Gaby and Illya stood as well.

               “On the charge of Murder, the Members find the defendants Not Guilty” Randolph read.  It was hard to resist the temptation to scream and shout but somehow, everyone did.

               On the charge of Conspiracy to Commit Murder, the Members find the defendants Not Guilty” Randolph continued before he looked up and read from the last slip of paper.

               “On the charge of Conduct Unbecoming a United States Marine, the Members find the defendants Guilty as Charged” he declared, making a little of the energy drained out of the room.  Randolph then cleared his throat.

               “The defendants are hereby sentenced by this court to time already served and are ordered to be dishonorably discharged from the marine corps” he stated before he paused.

               “This Court-Martial is adjourned” he declared, rapping his gavel.

               “Ten-hut” the Sergeant at Arms ordered.  All rose and stayed standing until Randolph left.

               “Dismissed” the Sergeant at Arms barked.  The M.P.’s walked over to Deuster and Stark to unlock their handcuffs while Napoleon began packing up his things.  Just another day at the office.

               “Why?” Deuster called out.

               “Julian, I’m sorry” Napoleon apologized as he stopped packing.

               “Why?!” Deuster shouted.

               “I don’t understand.  Colonel Sanders said he ordered the Code Red” Stark exclaimed.  Illya nodded.

               “I know but—” he started.

               “Colonel Sanders said he ordered the Code Red, what did we do wrong?” Stark asked.

               “It is not as simple as—” Illya started again.

               “What did we do wrong?” Stark demanded.

               “We did nothing wrong” Deuster replied.  Gaby growled and slammed her hands down on the table.

               “Yes, you did!  A jury just said your conduct was unbecoming a marine.  What does that mean?!” she exclaimed.

               “You’re the lawyer” Deuster answered.

               “You’re the marine” Gaby snapped.  Deuster shook his head.

               “Not anymore” he replied softly.  Gaby let that statement as Deuster stared at her before moving his stare slowly to the floor.

               “I never meant to hurt Alessandro” he murmured before he looked up at his parents.

               “Solo, I’ve gotta take these guys over to Personnel for some paperwork” the Sergeant at Arms called out.  Napoleon nodded.

               “Gentlemen?” the Sergeant at Arms asked, looking at Deuster and Stark while Deuster looked at Napoleon.  There had to be more.  This couldn’t be it.  But Napoleon had nothing else to say.  Deuster and Stark then walked over to the Sergeant at Arms and began to follow him up the aisle and out of the courtroom, but before they could get to the door, Napoleon turned around.

               “Julian” he called out.  Deuster, Stark, and the Sergeant at Arms stopped and turned around.

               “Sir!” Deuster answered.  Napoleon paused.

               “You don’t need to wear a patch on your arm to have honor” he stated finally.  Deuster stared at him for a long moment before he smiled slightly.

               “Ten-hut” Deuster called out as he and Stark came to attention.

               “There’s an officer on deck” he declared as he and Stark snapped a salute, holding it.  Napoleon stared back at them before he stood up straight and returned their salute.  After their salute, with one last glance back at Napoleon, Deuster turned and walked out the door, Stark following behind.  After they left, James walked over to the defense table.

               “Airmen Cecil O'Malley and Anthony Perez? What exactly were these guys gonna testify to?” he asked.  Napoleon smirked.

               “Unless I’m mistaken, they were gonna testify, under oath, that they had absolutely no recollection of anything” he replied.  James chuckled.

               “Strong witnesses” he stated.  Napoleon nodded.

               “And very handsome too, don’t you think?” he teased.  James rolled his eyes before smiling.

               “I’ll see you around the campus.  I’ve gotta go arrest Debicki” he stated.  Napoleon crossed his arms.

               “Tell her I said _“Hi”_ ” he ordered.  James chuckled.

               “Will do” he replied before he turned and headed out.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

Outside the courtroom, at dusk, Napoleon, Illya, and Gaby were walking down the steps while the band practiced on the parade grounds. 

               “What do you say we take rest of day off.  Go out someplace?  Gaby?  Champagne?  Yoo-Hoo?” Illy asked.  Gaby smiled and shook her head.

               “Thanks, but I can’t.  I’m gonna go home and talk to my daughter.  I think she’s gotta be bilingual by now” she explained before she turned and headed towards her car.  Illya then turned towards Napoleon.

               “So what is next for you?” he asked.

               “Staff Sergeant Henry Williamson.  He went to the movies on company time.  What about you?” Napoleon replied.  Illya raised an eyebrow.

               “Me?  Oh…you know…usual” he replied with a shrug.  Napoleon smirked.

               “So, pretty much generally annoying people?” he teased.

               “Yeah” Illya answered before he paused.

               “So what do you say?  How about celebration?” he asked.  Napoleon shook his head.

               “No.  How about a date.  A real date.  Dinner.  Attractive clothes.  The works” he suggested.  Illya smiled.

               “Sounds good.  Who do you think I should call?” he teased. 

               “I’ll pick you up at seven” Napoleon answered with a flirtatious smile.  Illya chuckled.

               “What are you going to do now?” he asked.  Napoleon sighed.

               “I’m gonna get started on Henry Williamson” he replied before he paused.

               “Stand my post for a while” he ordered.  Illya smiled and nodded before he held out his hand.  Napoleon smiled in return as he reached out and shook the Russian man’s hand.  When they pulled away, Napoleon turned to walk away when Illya grabbed him by the collar and pulled him in for a kiss.  Napoleon’s eyes widened before they fluttered shut and he clutched at Illya’s uniform.  God, he had wanted to do this since he first met the man.  When they pulled away again, Illya smiled fondly at him.

               “Носить одинаковые носки” he murmured before he turned and headed towards his building while Napoleon started walking towards the bleachers, a small yet fond smile on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, this is the end of A Few Good Men! I really hope you guys enjoyed this story because I really enjoyed writing this story a lot! Please continue to leave comments, kudos, bookmark, and subscribe! 
> 
> Also, don't be afraid to check out some of my other stories! I would really appreciate that!
> 
> Носите носки соответствие - Wear matching socks

**Author's Note:**

> New story! It's been for-fucking-ever since I've posted a new story, right? Sorry about that. I've been busy. College and stuff, you know how it goes. 
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy this new story and please don't be afraid to leave comments, kudos, bookmark, and subscribe!


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